Auxilium
by sailornia
Summary: Caught between artistic integrity and the bottom of the bottle, Gray Fullbuster is a struggling artist desperately clinging to his last few minutes of fame, when a small complication arises in the form of a blue-haired girl that won't take 'no' for an answer. Gruvia. AU. Warning: Adult situations.
1. Chapter 1

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**Auxilium**

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I know the warnings, disclaimers, author's notes are always so long and rambling, but I'll only be including them in this first chapter – so please do read them before advancing, you won't have to again!

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**Warning**: This piece of fiction contains strong adult situations, including but not limited to sexual situations and the passing mention of both physical abuse and alcohol abuse. Though glossed over, they are still heavily implied. Please do not read if either of these topics are triggering to you. I've tried to minimize them as much as possible, but better safe than sorry.

**Disclaimer**: Fairy Tail, its respected characters and its plot are all sole property of Hiro Mashima. Any resemblance to other pieces of literature or fiction, whether published online or on paper, is purely unintentional and merely coincidental. Any quotes or references used will be sourced either immediately or at the end of the chapter in the order that they appear.

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"All art is quite useless."

Oscar Wilde, _The Picture of Dorian Gray_

_._

The rain seemed relentless lately, Gray Fullbuster mused as he took another drag from his cigarette. Despite the steady approach of spring, it had poured without fail from morning to night for the past week – you could barely tell where dusk ended and night began. While there had been the occasionally sparse pockets of sunshine here and there (it _was_ the end of February, after all), streetlamps stayed lit and unwavering regardless, glowing phantoms against the monsoon.

Exhaling, Gray took one last drag before flicking the cigarette out into the curtain of water before him. Fortunately enough, he had been able to sprint towards a vacant shop awning just before the shower reached its crescendo – and it was painfully obvious by his third cigarette that the rain wasn't going to relent any time soon. Fuck Lyon, fuck Ultear, fuck everyone, and fuck him, especially. Storming out without his damn umbrella, as if he was some unruly, angst-ridden teenager…there was no way he could go back to get it tonight, especially after that dramatic exit. Gray would get it later – tomorrow, or maybe the day after. Whenever he felt up to it, really. It wasn't like he was planning on going anywhere any time soon, especially with the new gallery opening looming dangerously before him.

When was the last time he had created something worthy of a gallery opening, anyway? Months? Years, even? Maybe…never? Never…maybe he had never, in all of his twenty-six years, produced something worth tagging with a price…what a troubling thought. In a way, though, it was also strangely comforting – he still had a chance to impress before his fifteen minutes were up.

Maybe he just needed a muse. Something to inspire him, shirk him out of this clouded reverie he seemed to have stumbled upon, and give him reason to press pencil to paper instead of staring at his apartment ceiling for hours on end.

Feeling in the pocket of his leather jacket for another pack of cigarettes, Gray grimaced when skin met fabric. Fuck. He could have sworn he had…another…pack…digging into the pockets of his denim pants, all four of them, also proved fruitless. Cellphone, keys, wallet – all present and accounted for, but no cigarettes. Maybe it was time to brave the downpour and hail a taxi. Technically, he was still downtown, and it was a Friday evening, well after the end of a workday – taxis should be plentiful, as long as the rain hadn't stalled the traffic flow. As if on cue, directly across the street, a large, canary-yellow car stalled, its light box bright against the dreary city backdrop. _Yes_! It was empty and operating.

Looking both ways before leaping into a sprint, Gray held up his forearm, grimacing as needles of freezing rain pricked his face and bare hands. Damn, he didn't mind the cold so much, but this rain was really starting to tick him off. Opening up the taxi door, Gray slid onto the backseat, shaking the water out from his hair. Before he could open his mouth, the opposing door opened, and a figure flew in next to him, drenched and shivering.

Oh, _hell_ no. This was _his_ cab.

"I got here first." Gray didn't care if he sounded like a childish little shit at this point, he already accepted that he had regenerated back into a preschooler – wasn't that how Lyon had described him barely an hour prior? In addition, he truly didn't want to force interaction with anyone other than the cab driver and his doorman at this point. Not that he was a loner, no; he enjoyed company greatly…when he wasn't in one of his moods.

The figure turned to look at him, eyes up-turned and red-rimmed. At first their gender was indiscernible - female, at the very most effeminate Gray decided – but their wardrobe was not helping in the slightest. Between an obviously soaked knit hat, scarf, and matching thick winter coat, the figure's body was ultimately shielded from any real telltale shape. Their cheeks flushed a deep red momentarily underneath his scrutiny, mocking the bloodshot eyes, both contrasting greatly against the shock of blue hair plastered to their forehead. Drops of water leaked from the knit cap, threading through their thick, black lashes. Girl, definitely girl – Gray would have thought her face instantly beautiful, almost bewitching with her shock of blue hair and ethereal glow, if it were not for the jarring, bloodied split on the left side of her lip. Squinting, he couldn't help but note there was slight discoloration and swelling encircling the same area, as if she had been…

A loud thump against the cab door jerked them both out of their respected thoughts. The girl's eyes found his again, pleading.

"Please," her voice broke on the last syllable, though very soft and melodic, "I will pay the entire fare, yours included –"

The door closest to her side swung open cutting her off, rain pelting inside as another figure stood hunched by the taxicab, staring at the girl. His dark eyes rested on her, brightening instantly. There was something so eerily familiar about this man's presence. This was proving more irksome than he had anticipated.

"Ah, Juvia," the man's voice was hoarse, baritone, and slightly accented, accompanied with a warm smile, "come out of the cab, darling. We need to get you back inside and get you a change of clothes, you'll catch a cold if you stay in those wet things."

"I'm going back to my place," she responded timidly, directing her gaze away from his, "please leave, you're letting the rain in."

His eyes clouded cruelly at her rejection, but his smile didn't falter.

Grasping her upper arm, the man leaned further in, completely oblivious to Gray – and the driver's – presence. His olive-toned skin stood out against the taxicab's pale light, but nothing was more prominent than the strange facial tattoo resting above his right brow bone. A quiet voice in the back of Gray's head was relentlessly nagging at him, but the young man quickly shoved it away. It didn't take a genius to add up what was happening here, and Gray had lost what little he had left of his already waned patience. Grabbing the man's hunched shoulder, Gray pushed him, the grip he had on the girl instantly breaking.

"She said she doesn't want to go with you," he growled, shoving the man again, more forcibly this time. He stumbled back onto the street, his silhouette clouded by the rain,

"Now fuck off before I call the cops."

Reaching across the girl's lap, Gray stretched over to grip the taxi door's handle, slamming and locking it immediately on contact.

Turning his attention back to the driver (who, despite the commotion, was fiddling around with a text message on his personal cellphone) barking at him to hurry up and drive. The damn meter beside the steering wheel had already been running for several minutes. Of course the damn cabby would account for those ridiculous dramatics in the total.

"Address, sir?"

Oh, right.

"477 West Belford Avenue, please," deep down, he didn't want to frighten the poor girl with his bluntness, but getting back to his apartment was top priority. Turning back to her, their eyes locked once more, and Gray nodded towards the driver, signaling for her destination as well.

"I…I have the same address," she muttered, turning back to stare out at the passing traffic.

Gray's ears pricked. Tempted to steal another look at her, he relented, but only for a moment. The girl's profile was illuminated lightly by the flickering streetlights, only giving a small taste of her appearance to his peripheral vision. Despite the flush that never seemed to leave her cheeks, her skin was very pale, and he knew the swelling on her cheek would soon give way to a horribly mottled bruise. She was young, possibly even younger than him, which was rather strange – he hadn't seen anyone else even remotely close to his age in the building since he had moved there several years prior. The loft he rented was big enough for him and his studio work, but the majority of the other tenants that lived in his building were either middle-aged businessmen and women, or other well-established artists and architects. Obviously she was a part of the latter group, her blue hair was hard to miss – so obnoxiously artsy it could almost be called endearing. There was no way that was natural.

She was also still in that soaking wet coat.

"Hey," he nodded in her direction, breaking the silence of the cab ride. Her eyes fluttered over to him as he shrugged off his leather jacket,

"Take off that and put this on," he handed the garment over to her – it probably reeked of cigarettes, but it was dry, "it's better than what you have on."

The girl hesitated before accepting the jacket, muttering a soft 'thank-you' as she held it up before her. Gray turned away while changed, attempting to focus on the traveling raindrops running down the cab's windowpane. It wasn't like she was undressing completely, but he still felt a pang of guilt watching her remove any garment of clothing in the state she was been in. His curious mind, however, wasn't as much a gentleman as he was, and it took little to no prompting to convince him to sneak a glance just as she removed her knit cap. More blue hair spilled down in water-laden waves, resting just below her collarbone. She was wearing a simple, long-sleeved, navy blue shirt underneath that heavy winter coat; quite thoroughly soaked through as well, judging by how it clung to her body in areas Gray knew he had no business looking. Yep, he had been correct in his assumption. Turning his gaze back to the window while she put on his jacket, Gray rested his chin on his upturned hand, as his elbow perched by the pane. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, he determined, as he felt her form relax back into their shared seat. It was just…heavy. A heavy silence – a silence that contained a lot of probing questions, none of which Gray really wanted to ask but that he really wanted answered.

"Juvia, right?" Her body tensed slightly before she nodded tersely.

"Thank-you," she turned back to gaze at him. "You really didn't have to do that. Giving me the jacket and…I could…I –"

"No, it's fine." He cut her off. The last thing he wanted her to do was apologize.

"I'll pay for the cab."

"No, I've got it,"

"Please, I honestly couldn't let you…"

"I said it's fine. I've got it, don't worry," he sighed running his hands through his hair as they adjusted back to their heavy silence. Gray was absolute shit with girls and their emotions, let alone girls that had obviously been in crazy ex-lover/boyfriend/husband standoffs. Paying for the cab was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

"I really appreciate it," Juvia supplied, turning her attention back to her own window.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Gray began again, "but I've never seen you around the apartments, and I've lived there for the past two years – I think I'd recognize someone with blue hair."

For a moment he thought she hadn't heard him, or at the most, chosen not to. He didn't blame her – small talk was awkward. Flickering his eyes back to her body he noticed she was looking directly at him once again, her deep blue eyes curious and impish. Calculating. It was if she had been memorizing his face, inch by inch, before he caught her. Her blush darkened once again as she lifted her scarf to her upturned nose.

"It was a rather recent transaction. I've been living with my…I've been living on this side of town for about a year." The scarf muffled her voice, but it was still discernable.

"Why the rental?"

A beat passed, and Juvia's eyes flickered back to him, only for a moment.

"Well…" The girl burrowed deeper into her scarf, exhaling, "I wanted a back-up plan, I suppose."

Oh. Right. Fuck. See? Fucking awful with this kind of stuff, absolutely wretched. Of course she didn't want to talk about this shit, who would? He wasn't a friend to her; he was still just a stranger in a taxicab.

At least that confirmed a good portion of Gray's questions – the man, the quarrel, her lip – though, he wasn't even aware that there had been apartments for sale as of late in his building. Showed how much he paid attention to the world outside of his studio these days. Maybe she had been roaming around and he had just been too engrossed in work to notice.

"What's your name?"

The taxi pulled to the side of the road, gears shifting into park.

"Gray," he reached into his pants pocket, pulling out his wallet as he checked the taxi's meter. Forty bucks? Yeesh. Handing the driver several bills, he turned back to face her, hoping she'd take the hint that they had arrived and she needed to get out before the damn driver decided to run that meter again. He had more cash and a card or two, but his bed was calling.

"Like…the shade?" She only blinked in response, and Gray deadpanned in return. He hadn't questioned her weird name.

"I come from a long line of pretentious fuckwit artists," his eyes flicked back to the meter before motioning towards the door. Blushing again, she grabbed her coat and exited, Gray following suit.

.

That taxicab's heater was nothing compared to the one blasting in their building. Gray pressed for the lobby's elevator, Juvia to his left and the doorman nowhere to be seen. She wasn't short, but she wasn't tall, either – the top of her head just barely reached his collarbone. They both shifted uneasily underneath the all too-bright fluorescent lights.

"You're an artist, then?" her eyes glittered, impressed, and Gray could barely look at her without gaining a full-frontal view of cleavage, despite the scarf and his jacket. That navy shirt she wore underneath was cut dangerously low for just a casual top.

"I guess you could say that," Gray stepped into the elevator as the doors opened, Juvia following behind him like a puppy, "which floor?"

It wasn't a complete lie – he was an artist. If you could call ripping up sketches and getting so impossibly angry you finished an entire bottle of whiskey while chain-smoking cigarettes in under an hour artistic behavior, sure. He was an artist. Had been one for years, matter-of-fact.

"3," Juvia smiled as Gray pressed her floor as well as his, the doors shutting them out from the lobby. Silence enveloped them once again, but this time it was lighter – easier.

As the elevator dinged and its doors opened to her floor, Juvia handed Gray his jacket back.

"Thank-you, again," she smiled warmly, waving to him as she exited.

Gray raised his arm, fully intending on waving back, but the elevator doors closed too soon and she was gone. Digging his half-raised arm back into his pants pocket, he instead pulled out his keys, fingering their blunt ridges as the final floor number flashed onto the elevator's digital screen. What a fucking weird night.

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Throwing the jacket onto his kitchen counter, Gray also disposed of his shirt, pants, socks and shoes in a pile by the door, padding over to his fridge to take out a bottle of beer. After taking several gulps, he walked towards his blinking answering machine and grimaced. Five missed calls, three messages. Great.

"Good Day, Mr. Fullbuster. My name is Jose Porla, and I'm the gallery direc– "

Delete.

"Babyyy, c'mon pick-up the phone, I know you're there…I miss y – "

DELETE.

"Gray…I'm – we're – very sorry about what happened tonight. If you felt cornered…that wasn't our intention. There…are still some things we need to discuss. Give me a call when possible so we may arrange a meeting more convenient for you. Your umbrella is here, by the way."

_Click_.

It was the only message Gray allowed to run its course, but he swiftly pressed delete once it had finished.

The apartment's landline was primarily for his business calls or commissions. Ultear must have known he would ignore her attempts on his blasted cellphone. Sighing, Gray walked back to his clump of clothes, fishing out the smartphone in question before trudging up the staircase to his bed, half-empty bottle of beer in his grip sloshing against his thigh.

Taking one last chug out of the bottle before placing it on the bedside's table, Gray glanced outside at the city skyline before him. No stars, too many lights, but no rain.

Closing the curtain, Gray climbed into bed and closed his eyes.

* * *

**Notes**: Oh man, to say I've been working on this for a while would be an understatement. It took me a few days to plan, just over a week to write, and two weeks to edit. I cannot make any promises, however, I will attempt to update as frequently as I can - and with hopefully longer chapters. There is a beacon of light, though! At least you know I will be painstakingly involved in this story, so much so that I will try to always publish something worth reading (and not half-assed!) (…maybe). I wasn't really proud of the original draft honestly, but I'm feeling loads better about this reworked version. The plot is still being tweaked (insert cringe here), I'll be honest about that as well, but this only means I'm open to interpretation and suggestions if you have any!

Constructive reviews are welcome, and positive reviews keep the midnight oil burning!

x


	2. Chapter 2

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**Auxilium**

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Oh gosh – I had not expected to get so many reviews/favourites/follows! Thank-you everyone, I'm so glad you enjoyed the first chapter, I hope I don't disappoint with this one. Reference list and author's notes are at the end of the chapter – I apologize, this is a bit of a 'filler' chapter, but it is necessary to the plot, I promise.

Disclaimer/Warnings are listed in Chapter One.

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"The urge to destroy is also a creative urge."

Mikhail Bakunin / Pablo Picasso

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When she was six years old, Juvia Lockser had been blessed with one of her earliest encounters of human kindness. It was at the end of a sweltering Indian summer, and temperatures had escalated so high in the city that people rarely, if ever, left their apartments or air-conditioned cubicles unless it was absolutely necessary. The only relief from the heat had been the rain – unusual for an Indian summer, but gladly welcomed by many after the dry, arid heat that had lingered throughout August.

This was before she had been put back into foster care for the second time – before returning to a new orphanage, before being packed up and shuttled from family to family. This was back when she had first been adopted, been a part of something tangible – began to grow with somewhat of a family – a quiet, muddled memory of real cookie-cutter bliss.

To be fair, it hadn't really been her foster family's fault she was so difficult during this time. While a quiet girl, Juvia had been prone to outbursts – curious temper tantrums that, despite her young age, caused her to react harshly and prematurely to frustrating situations. It was just that…sometimes…words just evaded her. Communication was difficult. She tripped over her tongue, mispronounced words, and her foster siblings would laugh behind their hands at the attempts, just in the way children do. The ridicule was so jarring back then to such a sensitive girl though, that Juvia did the only thing she could do.

She ran.

These storms, though hellacious, were still summer showers – brief, sweet, and mesmerizing. The rain arrived with brute force, pounding against shop windows and sidewalks akin to small pebbles, blurring everything from sight in their wake…and yet, Juvia found so much solace in them. Even caught in the brunt of the storm, alone and frustrated, shivering against brownstone and brick, she felt it balance her. The rain took her tears, swallowed her cries, and created such a cathartically pleasing white noise, how could she not love it?

This time, someone had approached her. Only a block from home, Juvia had squatted down in the mouth of an alleyway, arms folded and eyes closed against the barrage of rain, glancing up only when she no longer felt it pricking her skin.

"Why are you out here by yourself?" the boy shouted, rain drumming against the umbrella's canopy.

He was one to talk – wasn't he alone as well? He couldn't have been much older than her, and Juvia didn't see any adults, but then again, you couldn't see much of anything right now. Looking back on the memory, no matter how clouded it grew with age, Juvia understood that his intent had not been malicious by any means – but she had still cowered back then, lips pursed tightly. Nobody wanted to hear her speak, so why start now? She never said anything worthwhile, anyway.

"Fine," the boy eyed her shivering form, "but you should go home. I bet your parents are really worried about you, and it's going to be dark soon."

Juvia stared down at the murky water swimming around her ankles. She was barefoot, soaking wet, and probably looked like a big, stupid mess of a girl. She wished he'd just leave her alone, already.

"I can walk ya back." The umbrella was large enough for them both but he was still a stranger, no matter how close in age they were.

"Juvia's fine," she murmured, angrily wiping her eyes. Though she had stopped crying before, a stray tear (or two) threatened to creep up from the lump lodged in her throat. "She doesn't want to go home."

In return, the boy extended his hand out to her.

"Is that your name? Juvia?"

Staring up at him from beneath the curtain of her bangs, Juvia nodded meekly. His small hand stayed open before her, palm upturned.

"That's a cool name," he grinned. "I like your hair."

She took his hand.

* * *

Juvia's phone vibrated angrily against her bedspread, its screen lighting up and immediately blinding her sleep-weighted eyes. She could have sworn she had turned the darn thing off before climbing into bed…

The caller ID flashed ominously, but Juvia refused to look, instead choosing to childishly throw the comforter back over her head, burrowing deeper into the mattress beneath her. Juvia knew it was one of three possible people, none of whom she wanted to speak with – you just had to, at this point in the game, hope it was the lesser of the three evils. Now, here was what made the difference – here was what many people would call a 'game changer' – she could either let the phone ring, doomed to listen to an impending voice mail, or answer the call and bite the bullet.

She opted for the latter, flinging the covers back off.

"Hello?"

"Juvia."

She exhaled.

"Yes, this is she." It hadn't been a question, but she was feeling rather plucky now.

"I _know_ it's you, idiot – I'm the one that called you!"

Juvia sighed audibly and rolled back onto her stomach. It was still dark outside, but along the cityscape you could see the promise of early morning light creeping against the gathering clouds. Why the heck was he calling her so early? More importantly, how was he even awake?

"Don't you start with me right now kid, I've been combing this stupid city up and down looking for your ass! That damned self-professed boyfriend of yours called me throwing a fuckin' fit because he said you drove away with a strange man in a cab? Where the hell are you?!"

"Juv – _I'm_ at my apartment," Juvia perched her chin on her upturned palm, wincing painfully at the contact. Where was that ice pack she had made earlier? Maybe she needed to take a few more aspirin to cool the swelling…

"Your 'apartment'?"

"Yes."

"So…not Bora's?"

"No."

"Can I get more than sketchy-ass one word answers outta you right now?!"

"No."

The voice growled in frustration across the phone's receiver.

"Where's your damn 'apartment'? I'm coming over."

"…"

"JUVIA."

The girl sighed once more, relenting. Of all people, her best friend was the last person she wanted to see her like this…but then again, if anyone had a one-track mind, it was Gajeel Redfox. It wasn't fair to tease him like this if he had really been so worried about her the night before.

"I'll text you the address. Just give the doorman your name and he'll give you my number - I'll make sure I call down to let him know."

Before he could respond, she hung up her phone with a satisfying swipe of her finger. Juvia sat up and swung her legs around the mattress' edge, bare feet gingerly touching the cold, wood-paneled floor. Might as well make some coffee before Gajeel arrived. It seemed neither of them had slept well that night, and she could use the percolating time to form a believable alibi.

* * *

Gray could have easily slept in until the late afternoon if fate had allowed. A solid night's sleep was in order after such a bizarre turn of events, and truth be told he was in no mood to even think about art galleries and openings and commissions, not to mention art dealers, bank accounts, girl troubles, lack of sex life – responsibilities in general that required his full fuckin' focus. No. He didn't want to deal with any of that. Not right now, just…not for another day. Just a few more hours of uninterrupted, blissful, easy sleep –

"Gray!" the voice was strained, muffled, against his thick apartment door, but the bang that followed was heavy and audible, echoing across his apartment's hollow walls.

As we've already covered, fate had other plans in store for him today – plans that involved his horrifyingly overly-intimidating five-foot-six stepsister banging on his door after he had averted her phone calls for a cool fourteen and a half hours…

Grimacing, Gray grabbed the pair of boxers he had rid himself of sometime between arriving home and falling asleep. Pulling them on lazily, he ensured that all spare equipment was neatly tucked away before advancing towards the door below. The banging, however, only grew worse and worse as he took his sweet ass time strutting down the stairs and towards his doorway. Gray knew that no amount of delay would deter Ultear from weaseling her way into his apartment though, he could just hear the disappointed clucking of her tongue as she picking up and investigated every little thing she could get her damn fingers on.

At least she seemed happy to see him when he finally opened the door.

"Good morning," she smiled warmly, extending a neatly wrapped, slate-colored umbrella towards Gray's bare chest. Her hair was smooth and styled nicely, pulled back into a neat, cream-colored headband.

The young man took it with a curt nod.

"Thanks."

Ultear peeked beyond his form, eyes searching suspiciously. Gray groaned inwardly, holding back the snarky comment that was daring to slip out between his teeth. She thought he had a girl over, didn't she?

That was **one** time.

"May I come in?" She smiled again, and Gray stepped to the side, swinging his arm like the proper, polite gentleman he was.

Let her try and find a girl in this apartment. He dared her to come inside and start flipping over couch cushions.

"Be my guest."

Ever since she had successfully adopted Meredy several years prior, Ultear had shaped up to be quite the successful, mature adult – something that, unfortunately, Gray knew he personally could never achieve. She began wearing expensive silken blouses and A-line skirts; went to meetings with entrepreneurs and business associates, shook hands and rubbed shoulders with the elite, talked about the stock market and politics. Things so alien to Gray, things so disgustingly ordinary and unexceptional it made his muscles ache.

"Well, it's not as cluttered as I thought it would be," Ultear waltzed past him, heels clacking against the floor. She stopped to lift up one of the half-drunk beers from Gray's kitchen counter, tilting and swirling the liquid around its translucent amber bottle.

In return, he shut the door.

"You didn't have to come all this way to bring me back my umbrella," Gray knew why she was here, no tiptoeing around the subject like children, "I could have come and gotten it myself later in the week."

Obviously she had every intention to continue what she and their stepbrother, Lyon, had begun the evening beforehand.

"We're just concerned, Gray," Ultear placed the bottle back down onto the counter, hollow body reverberating. "I know it's hard for you to see it yourself, but you've…"

Gray raised an eyebrow, daring her once again.

Ultear sighed in response.

"You've changed, Gray. And I don't know if it was that Angel girl and her ridiculous club-kid-wannabe lifestyle [**i**], I don't know if it was the pressure of the galleries and the commissions, hell, maybe it was none of these things, maybe you're still not over mom's – "

"I'm fine, I promise Ultear. I've stopped seeing her completely, we aren't even in contact any more." She was worried, it was understandable – besides Lyon and Meredy, he was all that Ultear really had left.

"You're _not_ fine, Gray. Have you even looked in a mirror recently? You look…you look pretty damn rough. Even Natsu's said – "

"What business does Natsu have talking about me with you?!" Gray walked back over to where Ultear stood, immediately making a mental note to chew out his so-called best friend's ass the second Ultear left his apartment. "I'm fine. I'm just going through a...creative block."

Yes, a creative block. There was so much pressure in the art world – Ultear had no idea what it was like to continually turn on the genius to create something worthy of a gallery, worthy of art critics and art dealers and fucking hoity-toity little curators, become a slave to the commissions. She had told him time and time again to get an assistant, someone to just help him organize his shit, but it wasn't like he couldn't keep his priorities in check. Just because he was going through a bit of a rough patch didn't mean that he wasn't capable of _art_ any more. People went through motions…people…people fell into ruts all the time. Humans were flawed in that sense. Gray wasn't someone who needed help or pity, he could quite easily pull himself back up at any time. Really. This was just a pit stop along the way, a detour if you will.

"Gray, creative blocks are fine, but…they don't normally last this long. You barely leave this damn apartment, you never answer your phone, leaving messages is pointless at this rate – "

On cue, his landline rang, its timing absolutely uncanny.

With eyes locked, Ultear cocked an eyebrow. Her painted lips spread into a thin, thin line.

Neither moved nor spoke. The phone rang again, howling.

"Are you going to get that?"

Ah, fuck.

"I don't want to interrupt our – "

Another ring.

"Answer it," Ultear folded her arms across her chest, "I can wait."

Her stance screamed, 'prove me wrong – show me that you actually answer the damn thing at least once in a while.' It was a challenge, but Gray's anxiety climbed higher and higher just considering who the fuck would be calling him on a Saturday at nine in the morning.

One last ring sounded before the voicemail clicked on.

"Gray, it's Angel…listen baby, I was just thinking of that time we – "

Fucking _DELETE_.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh _god_, he should have just picked up. He should have just picked up the damn receiver and hung right up immediately. He should have unplugged the damn phone – no, he should have just trashed the whole thing, if someone wanted to get ahold of him they could call his damn cellphone and if that didn't go through then too fucking bad. Wasn't this why text messaging was invented? To say things too menial to call about – that's why you could just send a ten-word message. Gray had sprinted over to slam his fist down on the damn machine and didn't dare look back up at Ultear. He knew exactly where this was going, knew exactly what her reaction was going to be, and right now he was in no place to mentally prepare for the slaughter house, especially after denying any damn interaction this was just too fucking coincidental.

"You're still seeing that girl."

Oh god. Her voice was low, monotone, _steely_.

"No, I'm not seeing her, _she_ was calling _me_."

It was official. The universe was out to get him.

"Gray, you're still in contact with her," Ultear slammed her hand down onto his kitchen counter, bottles rattling, "you are still in contact with her after everything she did to you, after she involved you with all of that bullshit, you are still _in contact with her_."

Gray groaned in frustration, clawing his black hair back with both hands. Don't lose your cool Gray, don't lose your cool, don't lose your cool…

"Ultear, I am not in contact with Angel, I haven't been for some time – she left a damn message on my machine last night, out of the blue, and obviously she's still fucking calling me, I – "

"Because you're LETTING her contact you, Gray!" She began to walk over to him. "Do you even remember what you went through with her? Do you remember how you distanced yourself even further from me, from Lyon, from all of your friends?! All of that damn gossip, the drugs, the…Jesus Christ, I just don't know what to do any more. Lyon had suggested the intervention and at first I thought it was a bad idea, but now I know I need to just start monitoring you like a _child_." She was in front of him now, their height near identical with the aide of her heels, jabbing her pointer finger into his bare chest, as if she was his parent, as if she was so _superior_ to him, so much fucking _better_ than him, so much more _successful_ than he ever would be.

"You're not my fucking mother, Ultear!" He shoved her finger away from his chest. This was right around where he was going to say something he was going to regret, wasn't it? "You're not Ul, so stop fucking act like you are!"

Oh, yeah. There it was. The anger, the uncontrollable tongue, the word vomit that just spilled out of his mouth, no processing necessary. One of these days, he was seriously going to learn his lesson. One of these days, he would be able to use his fucking brain, program himself to insert foot-in-mouth and think before he fucking spoke.

The anger – no, the absolute, irrevocable fury – flashed back at him in her deep, brown eyes, and Gray could feel the feverish knot of guilt in his stomach expanding at an alarming rate.

"I think we're done here."

Calm. Collected. That was almost, no – that _was_ worse than any angry, emotional outburst. That…that was terrifying, that meant it had been a low, low blow. Remember when Gray said he was bad with women in general? Yeah, that applied to all women, even the ones he had grown up with, even the ones that he considered family, no matter how different their bloodline. Twenty-six years old and he just couldn't figure it _out_.

"Ultear, wait, no, that came out wrong, I didn't mean for it to sound like that, please don't leave just ye – "

But she had already walked out the door, slamming it square in his face as he rushed behind her. In the distance, the door to the stairs swung open, and Gray already knew he would never catch up to her, even if she was wearing heels.

Guess that was that – a nice chapter in the latest installment of their sibling bonding session. At least Lyon hadn't been there to assert his own prudent holier-than-thou authority over Gray as he was accustomed to doing.

Fuck, he needed a cigarette. Or twelve.

* * *

Gajeel had come ripping through her apartment as if he was some sort of angry black tornado, gripping her face with careful fingers, yelling loud words and throwing nasty glares demanding an answer to her cut lip and bruised cheek bone. Her answers had been as mechanical as possible: no, nobody had given it to her purposely. Yes, she was fine. No, she didn't want to go to the hospital; clearly it wasn't serious. Yes, she had been keeping an ice pack on it. No, she had just been clumsy. Well, yes, she wasn't that clumsy, but – yes. Yes. Okay. No, she would eat later. Thank-you.

The look he gave after her scripted excuses, however, held an air of dissatisfied contempt. Not directed towards his friend, certainly, but directed to whatever – or whomever – had given her those marks. Gajeel wasn't dumb, but he also knew Juvia better than a lot of people did. He wasn't going to press the subject, but that didn't mean that they were done discussing it – and that certainly didn't mean he was done with the asshole that pulled this shit. This would be revisited later, maybe in a days time…now that he knew she had an apartment, it was a bit easier to check up on her without her overbearing on-again/off-again 'boyfriend' getting in the way of their conversations, ordering her around like she was his damn doe-eyed assistant.

He accepted the steaming mug she handed him, grumbling a 'thank-you' under his breath, the both of them sitting in front of one another on her lacquered coffee table. Gajeel liked tabletops, and Juvia liked being level with whom she was talking to. Ying and yang.

"So, how's the, uh, job going?" Gajeel blew at the steam still rising from the mugs lip before taking a generous gulp, wincing. "I didn't know that the museum was buying you a fucking apartment for the sake of recruiting."

"It's…going well," Juvia sighed, her fingers wrapping around her own mug, "but I miss being in the gallery, not to mention I'm not exactly the best with…persuading people."

"Don't be so hard on yourself kid," Gajeel placed his mug back down, "you've had to deal with pretentious-ass artists, guests, foreign fuckin' art traders – you've given plenty of tours and speeches, aided in important deals…you're professional as hell. People take to you."

"It's not that, I can handle that kind of stuff," Juvia laughed nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "it's just that, well…this first guy…"

"What about him?" Gajeel probed, unconsciously playing with the barbell between his eyes [**ii**].

Juvia's face flushed scarlet red almost instantly. She cupped her hands around her eyes in a weak attempt to hide the shame oozing from every pore in her body. Augh, she could almost scream at the memory!

"Really, kid?" he deadpanned, "don't tell me you think he's hot, because if you do I'm gonna lose the contents of my stomach."

"W-well, he's definitely not _un_attractive, that's for sure," her voice betrayed her, as usual. Ohhh Gods, this was so cruel.

"You have a type," Gajeel took another hearty gulp – Juvia still hadn't touched hers – before adding, "you love those prissy-ass artist types, convinced they're the next big Degas or DuChamp, when really they're all just Pollock…and not even the good Pollock." [**iii**]

A heavy beat of silence passed.

"So, a selfish asshole with a drinking problem?" She offered, eyes downcast.

Gajeel deflated instantly. '_Dammit._'

"Naw, Juvy," he reached forward, grasping her shoulder as gently as possible – maybe it _was_ time he brought this up, "I didn't mean it like that. You know…we should really discuss this. I don't like how that prick treats you, and I think it would be in your best interest to stay the fuck away from him."

Juvia picked her head back up, smiling all too-brightly in return.

"Not to worry – I'm fine, things are just a bit bumpy right now, he's just feeling rather pressured since that piece for the MMoMA [**iv**] and you know how – "

"Juvia."

Her eyes clouded again and she swept them back down.

It was difficult, Gajeel _had_ to understand that much. Bora was a touchy subject, and Juvia knew that if she told him everything, just spilled her guts to him, Gajeel's instant reaction would be to go after the man in question and pummel his face into a bloody sack of broken cartilage and bone. The end result of his rage wouldn't be pretty for anyone involved – including, but surely not limited to, her. From the surface, she was sure it appeared as if there was a perfectly capable plan amongst this whole mess, one that should be obvious to any dope with half a brain – break up with him, let Gajeel knock his teeth out, and be done with it all – but nobody knows better than Juvia does that everything looks simple from the outside. It's only when you began to dissect the layers that you fully comprehend the situation and its complexity.

"I'm done with him," she finally lifted the mug to her lips, taking a quiet sip. "Just please don't bring it up, not right now. I haven't…done it yet, but I'm going to. I just am worried. He has connections, he has _people_ in places – he could _ruin_ my career." That was if he hadn't already, considering last night's spectacle.

It was curious, however, that he had called Gajeel of all people…

Pursing his lips, Gajeel closed his eyes. This was all true – Bora did have connections – but that didn't make him want to pummel him into the ground any less. That fucking piece of shit…

"Does he know where this apartment is?" His voice was tight.

"No." That was a lie, but Gajeel didn't need to know that – it wasn't such a big lie as it was stretching the truth to fit what her friend wanted to hear. He didn't know where the apartment was, but he knew that her boss had bought her the apartment several months prior. Him finding it wouldn't be all that difficult, considering they were technically employed under the same gallery.

"Good."

They both drank the rest of their coffee in silence.

* * *

Gajeel left shortly after the two another cup of coffee, lightly ruffling her hair as he did so. Despite the elephant in the room, he still spoke softly as he said his goodbyes and made her promise that they would meet up again later in the week. Their friendship was an odd one; Juvia would attest to that – Bora would confront her constantly, attempting to insinuate that there was more between them than just camaraderie, but the concept made Juvia double over in laughter. They were friends, nothing more, but the girl couldn't help but quietly admit to herself that the apartment oddly felt…emptier without his presence.

This new silence grew exponentially until it enveloped her in a strange hum of something she hadn't felt in quite sometime.

Loneliness.

While this apartment existed for 80% business and 20% pleasure when mentally broken down, Juvia couldn't help but wish that it actually…felt more like _her_ apartment, a place she owned and thrived in, than just an accessory for the 'mission' she had been assigned. The walls were bare and painted white with low popcorn ceilings above, the furniture all clean, basic, neutral – none of it ostentatious or eclectic in the slightest. And why should it be? This wasn't her home, despite her latest raise there was no way she would have been able to afford this, or any real apartment in this city for that matter. She had been living with Bora for some time with good reason.

Well, as good a reason as any.

A small voice in her head reminded her as well, that while this was her apartment and while she did have clothes and food amongst other standard living luxuries, a lot of her things were still at Bora's – her laptop, her tablet, her wallet (though she had removed her ATM debit card as well as her driver's license from it, but still)...she had been living there, after all. Eventually she would have to go and get them back, but the thought was nauseating. She would have to see him again, it was only a matter of time, but that didn't mean she couldn't put it off for as long as possible.

Maybe she should go for a walk, clear her head. Think up a new plan of action.

* * *

**References: **

[**i**] – A really lame nod to the Party Monster movie/Michael Alig – this is sort of unnecessary, but ever since I saw Angel in canon I immediately thought her outfit was reminiscent of the club kids 'scene' (not to mention, a pivotal 'character' in the movie is named Angel, har har). Feel free to research it if you'd like. The movie is one of my personal favourites but please note it has a lot of drug use and violence.

[**ii**] – As this is sort of a real-world AU, I decided to limit Gajeel's facial piercings. Not that I'm against them or anything, but just to make it believable he has a lesser amount of piercings – this was a reference to his bridge piercing. The rest will be mentioned later.

[**iii**] – I'm sorry for sounding so pretentious here. I minored in Art History and I'm trying to keep it semi-relevant in the story. Also, Pollock _was_ kind of an asshole, not exactly my favourite despite paving the path for modern art.

[**iv**] – Magnolia Museum of Modern Art, because I think I'm funny (brick'd). This will make another appearance later in the story.

* * *

**Notes: **

Okay, so, definitely a filler chapter with no real main character interaction and a way too cliché beginning BUT – it was important. I had originally intended for it to be longer, but ended up cutting it in half. The second half is being cleaned up right now and will be posted, more than likely, by the end of the week! It just felt like I was throwing way too much information to process at once so I wanted this chapter to display the majority of it and give you some breathing room for the next. I hope it wasn't too disappointing.

I have a feeling you're going to really enjoy the next chapter, however, so think of that as an apology for this!

Thank-you again for all of the wonderful reviews/favourites/follows – you all rock! Please let me know your thoughts, if you have any, with the direction this story is heading.

x


	3. Chapter 3

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**Auxilium**

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Hi! (waves) I want to apologize for the extreme lateness on this chapter – a college friend of mine passed away last week and while we hadn't spoken for some time, it still crippled my creativity. BUT I'M BACK! … and with a nice, long chapter! I'm a believer in quality over quantity, but here's hoping this has both.

Thank-you all for your lovely reviews / favourites / follows! You are all too kind. Special shout-out to Arlie (Juvvias on tumblr) for giving me **loads** of inspiration and headcanons! You rule.

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**Disclaimer/Warnings are listed in Chapter One.**

**Chapter Notes are listed at the end of the chapter. **

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"For art to exist … a certain physiological precondition is indispensable: intoxication."

Friedrich Nietzsche

.

While the run-in with Ultear that morning had been uncomfortable and soul-sucking, it had also reminded Gray that he should probably knock out that stupid fucking so-called 'best friend' of his for running and ratting him out to his stepsister. After throwing on a pair of pants and a dark crewneck shirt, he grabbed his leather jacket – which was fortunately dry, all things considered – and made his way down and out of the apartment.

Outside, the weather was curiously light and airy – completely free of humidity and impending rain, though still cold enough that you could see wisps of your breath. Clouds hung low, shielding the sun from providing even a sliver of warmth, but nobody could deny that it was the best weather they'd had in the city in a long, long time. Guess he really could have put off getting his umbrella from Ultear for several days, after all. Gray grumbled out loud.

Turning on his phone as he walked, Gray promptly ignored the ocean of missed calls that flashed up, flooding his home screen with blinking lights and names. Fishing through his contacts list, he finally located Natsu's number. Though that bastard wasn't the best with answering his phone, it was a Saturday, and Natsu would most definitely be up and kicking. Gray _had_ been his roommate for almost four years, after all – he knew him quite well, despite how much time had passed.

"_What's up, it's Natsu, I'm probably at the studio or something – I never check my messages so maybe you should swing by and see me in person, like humans do_."

Okay, maybe he didn't know him that well after all.

Of course he wouldn't pick up his damn phone. That was such a fucking _Natsu_ thing to do, especially now that he had begun gaining some actual, real recognition for his work. Apparently Gray was just an anomaly, because he wouldn't even be surprised if Natsu never even listened to the messages people –

"_This phone's mailbox is full. Please call again. Goodbye._"

And here Ultear was giving him shit for not replying to her; imagine if her stepbrother had been Natsu. He groaned in frustration, sliding the phone into the back pocket of his pants.

Natsu's studio wasn't too far, but it was still a walk – a walk that fortunately had several discount marts on the way, not to mention that little snitch lived in a nice enough area with plentiful café's. The time on Gray's phone had read close to eleven in the morning, giving him ample time to buy a pack, smoke a couple on the way…maybe he could convince Natsu to grab some food with him, too. Natsu never said no to food.

Come to think of it, though…when had he last eaten? Definitely not last night…did he even have lunch yesterday? He had gotten take out on Wednesday, no, Tuesday…Sunday? Ordered pizza one of those days…maybe gotten some groceries delivered…last week? The days had begun to run together, it seemed, as if they were a still-wet oil painting – moments, hours, faces, voices – they all muddled together as more and more strokes were added, colors and lines pushing and pulling until the original object became indiscernible.

It gave him a headache.

'_I wonder how that chick's feeling today_,' Gray remarked inwardly as he pressed the pedestrian crosswalk button. The injuries on her face hadn't been too bad now that he considered it, but they certainly weren't pleasant – and he knew how freakish girls could be about their appearances. Living with Ultear throughout the majority of her teens and early twenties had shown him more than he would have liked to see about girls…their habits, their obsessions…and the gross stuff. Gray could easily recall on multiple occasions his stepsister inspecting every single pore on her face meticulously, peering over their shared bathroom sink as she groaned in disgust. While Juvia's cheek would ache and discolor, it would more than likely heal within a week, fortunately enough for her. However, a split lip was something that took a decent amount of time, especially if the wound reopened.

In addition, he wondered if she was really going to end things with that guy. Admittedly, Gray was only an onlooker – he really didn't know her from Eve or that guy from Adam, and he definitely didn't know the whole story, but…girls in…abusive relationships…had a tendency to go back to their abusers, didn't they? Well, not just girls, Gray corrected himself, _people_ that were in abusive relationships were quite weak-willed when it came to the abusers. Maybe that was why he kept drinking. Tch. He opened the door to the convenience store's jarring fluorescent light, a dull, electronic tone signaling his arrival. He wasn't abusing shit; he was just…enjoying a drink every once in a while. Giving into some carnal desires or whatever.

"One pack of menthol silvers please," Gray passed his credit card and I.D. over to the cashier before grabbing a small blue lighter from the display, pushing it over to be scanned. [**i**]

The first cigarette of the day was always the best one. It seemed after that you were just chasing the original lift it gave you. Gray stopped just outside of the shop's awning, hiding his cigarette from the biting winter air. Pulling and exhaling, he closed his eyes, his body fluttering awake from the artificial high. He cherished it for a few moments, soaking in the euphoric lift before continuing on to his destination.

Gray didn't remember when he started smoking admittedly, but it was probably in art school – you always start smoking in college. In high school they do everything in their absolute power to convince you how disgusting the things are, but what they don't tell you is that in the real world everyone and their grandmother takes a rip once in a while. It was a disgusting habit, he knew, and he hated that he did it, but at this point it didn't matter – he could quit at any time, honest. He had quit before, but…

…but then again, maybe that was what it was like to be in an abusive relationship – you thought you could leave at anytime, until you actually _try_ to leave. Maybe that Juvia girl was back with that guy already. Maybe she had left her apartment after she said goodbye to Gray, caught another cab and just hauled her rear right back into that guys arms, right back to his stupid forehead tattoo and weird accent and ridiculous (fake!) tan.

Curiouser, though, was that he was still letting this…'issue'…bug him. Why was he still thinking about some weird chick he barely knew? She had blue hair, for Christ's sake. That was cool in your teens and everyone had done it back in art school, but she was definitely…his age…right? Whatever, they were too old for that kind of crap. Anyway, that didn't matter. What really bugged him more than anything about this whole situation was that when he really thought about it, how had he not seen her around before? Sure, he had trouble with recalling what he had eaten last, but as an artist he did pride himself in his adept observational skills.

Art school was no joke when you had to take additional courses about the northern modern renaissance art movement and gothic architecture, you actually had to push yourself to achieve what he had achieved so far. However, looking back on it all, Gray would rather choke on his own vomit than have to write another essay on flying buttresses and ribbed vaults – thank god art had worked out in the end. Despite his parents, and most notably, Ur's, accolades, Gray had still taken a chance with his art school gamble. Lord only knew what he would be doing now if he hadn't sworn to pursue what Ur had already paved out for him.

The cigarette was nearly down to its filter by the time Gray went to take another puff. He took one last drag before flicking out the cherry and throwing the burnt filter away – maybe not littering for once would be his first good deed for the day. He could use some considering all of the karmic retribution he was receiving as of late.

* * *

Natsu shared studio space with their mutual friend, Lucy. It was in an interesting, industrial part of the city – not as nice as Gray's own, but it still carried its own kitschy, quirky charm with its brownstone and wine lounges, not to mention one too many fixed gear bike shops and several dimly lit American-style bistros.

Natsu, a glass blower and sculptor, and Lucy, a jeweler, had both bought the studio several years post-undergrad in hopes to combine their assets and talents. Honestly, Natsu was a lucky son of a gun – he had worked under Dale Chihuly [**ii**] after all, before breaking away to focus more on his personal career. Apparently shit was going too well, because this space they had was monstrous, and seemed to just grow every time Gray stopped by. It blew Gray's mind just considering how much that studio cost to run – his own apartment doubled as a studio occasionally, but his real studio space was rather large, and that rent could be a pain in the ass if you just left everything sitting there (like, er, he had recently). Beginning a new project and gathering the materials necessary was a whole other animal in itself.

As he pushed the studio door open, sweat immediately began to bead on Gray's brow. The air inside was so thick with the stench of mechanical tools, oil, and just plain, stuffy, caged heat. Gray shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on a nearby coat rack, eyes searching for Natsu's familiar fiery strawberry-blonde hair. He finally found him, head bowed down, furiously working on a commissioned piece. Natsu glanced up as he saw Gray's form shift in front of him, eyes widening in recognition, but unfortunately his brain-to-body reaction time was nowhere near as fast as Gray's fist was.

Snake in the grass piece of shi –

"What the FUCK was that for?!" Natsu growled, immediately jumping up to his feet, rubbing the knot that was steadily growing near his jawline, commission forgotten entirely, "you son of a bitch, I'm going to – "

"What business did you have talking to Ultear about me, you hotheaded bastard?!" Oh, man that felt good. Natsu's dark eyes flashed in response.

"ME 'hotheaded'?! You didn't even say hi you dick, just waltzed in here throwing punches you droopy-eyed son of a bitch! This is _my_ studio, show some fuckin' respect!" Natsu's chair screeched as he kicked it out of his path, advancing towards him just as the back studio door opened. A lithe, blonde-haired girl with safety goggles, gloves, and an apron walked through, and Natsu stalled the moment she spoke.

"Ah! Gray! Good morning!" Lucy smiled sweetly; removing her safety goggles and gloves before rubbing her sweating forehead with the back of her hand, "long time no see!"

"Lucy don't even bother with formalities, this asshole doesn't even say 'boo' to us for weeks and rolls up in here like he's some fuckin' big shot, punching and kicking and screaming at me like a child – "

"You probably did something to deserve it," Lucy sighed, cutting her honeyed eyes at Natsu. His face flushed guiltily, instantly matching his odd hair color. In some lights, much like the one at their studio, it appeared almost pink…a dull, burnt pink, but pink nonetheless. And here Gray had been giving that weird chick shit for her blue hair, he was sure that Natsu had kept up this weird color since their own days together in art school…hell, hadn't he always had it?

Natsu snarled, turning back around to pick up his papers from the floor, muttering assorted curse words underneath his breath as he slammed them back down onto the tabletop one by one.

"So what brings you here to our part of town?" Lucy undid her apron, walking to hang it up next to Gray's jacket, "how's that new piece coming along?"

"It's…good," Gray muttered, running his hands through his wind-tousled hair. If good meant he hadn't even started it yet, then yeah...it was good. Fuck, their studio was so warm he thought he might have heat stroke. Natsu needed heat for his glass pieces and Lucy to keep her gold and silver malleable, but did they really have to keep that damn furnace pumping along with all of their ovens and blowtorches? "How's business?"

"Business is awesome," Lucy looked back over her shoulder at Natsu who grinned back at her, his sour expression faltering, "who knew the glass pieces would be such a hit? We have several orders for Hargeon right now; apparently a lot of tourists are hardcore into them. We've been swamped with orders from so many jewelry stores I can hardly keep up with my personal projects, let alone managing Natsu and his commissions."

That's right, Gray recalled, Lucy was also technically Natsu's assistant in addition to…well, essentially everything. She did his PR, she managed his commissions, she organized his gallery presentations not to mention his website, and was more than likely responsible for keeping that idiot on the right track. Natsu owed a lot more to Lucy than he did his own talent.

"All right, enough small talk," Natsu's grin left and he slammed his palm one last time on the tabletop, dark eyes glaring up at Gray, "why did you come in here, really? We don't see you for weeks, you ignore every single one of our attempts at communication, and then you swagger in here as if you're some fuckin' hot-shot good-for-nothin', yelling about this 'n that…"

"I wanted to see you, dumbass," Gray offered honestly – and it was true. Despite his avoidance of all things to do with human interaction recently, he really had missed Natsu and Lucy, as well as their other friends.

"You came in here screaming about your stepsister too you bastard, what was that about?"

Oh, right. That. Gray had almost forgotten about Ultear.

But this wasn't something he wanted to talk about in front of Lucy. She was a friend of Gray's just as much as Natsu was, but she was still delicate, and despite keeping up with their outbursts, he still didn't want to get into this with her around. Eh, actually, Natsu would probably tell her the second Gray left, anyway. Natsu told Lucy everything. _Everything_.

"Natsu, can we go grab a bite to eat?" Gray dug his hands into the front pockets of his pants. "Your studio is so hot I'm about to pass out if I don't drink something soon. We can talk about it there."

Natsu's eyes narrowed for a few moments but softened slightly as he relented, walking over to grab a large black pullover from their coat rack. Gray followed in suit, grabbing his own jacket and draping it across his forearm to carry. Though it wasn't that chilly out to him, Gray knew how his friend got with colder weather – while Gray thrived in it, Natsu became absolutely miserable. Right now, Natsu was already wearing a pair of denim pants and a thick, red waffle-knit sweater, but chances are he was going to complain about the decreasing temperature wherever they ended up.

"I'll be back," Natsu grinned back at Lucy, and she waved in return with her own kind smile, busying herself with more order sheets. Lucy knew when to tag along but she also knew when to hang back – it wasn't an abnormal thing with those two, in fact it was so common in college that she started to feel a bit left out at times before Natsu reassured her it was just their 'thing' that he and Gray did.

The only worrying part of it all was that…Gray had begun to look a bit...not himself…Lucy concluded. He wasn't the Gray they knew; even his tone of voice had changed, and the way he held himself, his hair…granted, when he was dating that one girl he didn't look one-hundred percent, but at least he was smiling. If anyone could talk sense into him though, a voice reminded her, it would be Natsu. It was best, her inner monologue chastised, not to think about it right now, not as she was trying to do paper work and invoices.

Natsu would more than likely come back later, smelling of tobacco and cheap beer, and tell her everything that she wanted to hear about their friend. He would crawl into bed, drape his arm across her waist, burrow his face into her neck and tell her everything was fine, he was just going through a rough patch. Artistic rut – they all knew what that was like. However, at the end of the day, Natsu would fix all of this – he was good at that.

Lucy hadn't even realized she was crying until a drop of water splattered onto her white-fleshed knuckle.

* * *

"All right, spill," Natsu noisily sipped the thin layer of foam that had settled on the top of his beer.

They had gone to a bistro a block or so away from Natsu's studio and both immediately ordered draft beers the moment the waitress approached them. Gray sat in silence as Natsu combed him over warily, and once their order was placed, he knew Natsu was going to break the silence if he didn't jump the gun first,

"Ultear and Lyon staged an intervention," Gray narrowed his eyes down at the glass in front of him just remembering the succession of last night's events. They had lured him over with the promise of food, now that he recalled, and he hadn't eaten a damned thing before Lyon began spitting out bullshit.

Natsu, in turn, laughed until he choked– because of course he fucking would.

"It's not funny, you shit!" Gray roared, happy that they were essentially the only people at this end of the damn bistro, not to mention secluded away from the busy bar area in a dimly lit black leather booth.

"It's fucking hilarious, Gray," Natsu wiped away a drop of water from his eyes, several more spilling down his cheeks as he coughed, "I can just imagine Lyon trying to puff out his chest with that 'adult voice' he puts on, you getting pissed off and storming out like a little teenaged brat because he's shaming your ass and you know what he's saying is true…"

This bastard.

"Look, that's not what I came to talk about you imbecile – I know you've been in contact with Ultear. She told me. I know you run and spill your guts to Lucy every time you take a shit but don't do the same with Ultear, you know how she can be."

Natsu's demeanor darkened once more, and he leaned back against the booth's cushioned seat.

"She came to me, Gray. What the hell do you want me to say? Oh yeah, Gray's fuckin' great, we see him every day, he's bathing and eating his vegetables, doing just fuckin' peachy. C'mon. We've all been so worried about you…after you stopped coming by, after you wouldn't answer your phone…you're lucky it was Ultear and not Erza I spoke to…" Natsu trailed off, a long sigh escaping his lips as he picked his glass of beer back up, taking a large gulp. This was true…had it been Erza…Gray shivered involuntarily.

"Look, I'm not saying that it's the exact same behavior, but after Angel and all of that shit, I was…Lucy was…we were both…equally concerned. God, everyone was. We all thought maybe you had gotten back involved with that shit. When Ultear came to me…of course I had to tell her how I was feeling. She has a right to know, Gray. She _was_ your guardian after Ur passed away, as much as you hate to admit it."

Gray averted his eyes from Natsu's glare. He watched as beads of condensation rolled down his beer glass, the droplets gathering against the surface of his grip. This was another thing that was really beginning to bug him – everyone kept bringing up Angel like she mattered still. It was really starting to piss him off. People make mistakes – Natsu and Lucy had made mistakes, Ultear and Lyon had made mistakes, was he just not allowed to? Wasn't he just as fucking human as the rest of them were?

Ultear had become his guardian when he was 14, but she had only been 18 back then…there was still a part of Gray that was sure she resented her step-brothers, more so him than Lyon – who was at the time, old enough to get an after-school job. Gray _would_ have gotten a job if he could have, though. On top of this, it was because of them that Ultear never really got a real tertiary education like they had. She took classes at a local community college and worked odd-end jobs, despite the hefty nest egg Ur (and Gray's biological parents) had left behind. It was admirable now that Gray looked back on it, and he really did care about his stepsister…it's just that he really hated being accused of things he hadn't done. It was a pride thing.

"I'm not associating with Angel any more," Gray had meant for his voice to be more forceful, more commanding, but it came out soft and weak – hardly believable, "she's been calling me recently, but I have no interest in responding. She can call me all she fucking wants, there's no way I'm ever going to back track like that."

"Well, that's good to hear at least." Natsu was staring at him still but there was a drop of hope in his voice. Gray's eyes looked up from his glass and locked with Natsu's own once more. Natsu believed him, he could tell. Thank god someone out there was actually rooting for him.

Their food came.

"Can you just make me a promise, you frostbitten bastard?" Natsu asked before picking up one of his fries, submerging the entire thing in ketchup.

Gray took a gulp of his beer again. They had both ordered hamburgers, but suddenly he wasn't even feeling that hungry any more. The beer was filling him up nice enough, but Natsu watching him like a hawk. He'd expect Gray to eat at least a little bit. It _would_ keep up appearances for now, at least…and it would also help with the amount of alcohol he was planning on consuming. Avoiding a hangover was never a bad thing, that was for sure. While Gray really hadn't looked in a mirror like Ultear had suggested he should, he could feel that he might be growing a little gaunt in some areas…his clothes definitely didn't fit as snug as they used to, and he didn't feel as heavy with muscle, but that was only due to a month or so without physical activity…

…and several months without sex. Yeah. He hadn't had sex in…too long. Not like he wanted to have sex with anyone right now, forging emotional bonds with anyone he didn't already know seemed exhausting, and he wasn't very good with that shit any way.

Yeah, okay, maybe he wasn't doing as well as he thought he had been.

"What's that?" Gray murmured before starting on his own side of fries, not bothering with the ketchup.

"Please just talk to me…please let me know if you ever do need some help. I know it's lame as fuck, but I'm your friend and I do care about you. Lucy, Erza, Cana… we all care about you. Haven't got the faintest clue why, considering you're a massive prick, but we do. I wouldn't usually admit this but I'm glad you stopped by…even if you punched me."

Gray smirked and Natsu grinned impishly in return, raising his glass to his friend. They clinked and chugged, slamming both glasses back onto the tabletop, calling it a tie. This was…nice, Gray decided. He _had_ missed this.

The waitress came back around asking if they wanted another round, and they ordered shots as well.

* * *

Juvia was sitting on the front steps of the apartment building and staring up at the clear sky, her eyes focused on the half-lidded moon. It was early, yes, but it was still winter, and the sun setting before six o'clock was definitely not out of the ordinary. With elbows perched on her knees, open palms cradling her chin, she let her eyes glaze over, imagining herself swimming up through the sky. When she was younger, she had imagined she had come from the moon. In school they had taught her that it carried nothing more than century-old dust and craters, but what if they were wrong? What if the scientists and astronauts were mistaken? Juvia imagined the hidden side of the moon, the side that nobody looked at, full of dancing comets, full of glimmering tide pools with waterfalls made of stars…

She had come here over an hour ago after finally deciding to put on a pair of black tights and boots with a too-large ashen-colored cable knit sweater, stuck at a crossroads between cajoling her urge to go and get her stuff from Bora or find Gray. She could have gone and gotten some food, could have gone for a walk, could have called Gajeel back up again to see if he would like to go get a drink with her, but in the end she hadn't really felt up to tending to any of those options, and in turn, just sat.

People had come and gone. Few had stopped to greet her, waving politely or asking if she was waiting to see someone inside, though the majority had just stared at her like she was some sort of cancerous growth. That was fine – that was something she was almost wholly accustomed to. Above all, though, Juvia was most thankful that her doorman had kept to himself, staying inside and only emerging once in a while for a cigarette or to answer his phone. He didn't talk to her, and Juvia decided that she liked that even more than the people that did.

Bora had tried calling several times, but she ignored them all, eventually shutting off her phone and throwing it back into her purse.

Truthfully, she hadn't expected Gray to sit down next to her. She most definitely hadn't felt his presence approaching, too engrossed in her own fanciful train of thought, and sat up instantly, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. Why had she worn such average clothes? She should have at least dressed up! Tried to make herself look semi-presentable! Just to think, her hair was probably still a knotted mess…maybe she should throw it up into a bun. She could do that casually, right? Why wasn't she wearing a hat today of all days! Indifferent to her rigid change in demeanor, Gray continued smoking his cigarette, staring up at where she had been only moments ago, so she allowed herself a quick look.

Oh gosh, he was really pretty. Not…feminine pretty…but the type of pretty associated with a Greek god. Bora was attractive, and when he smiled Juvia used to see fireworks, but Gray's features were so different to Bora's – she just looked at him and saw an atomic bomb ready to explode, and that comparison terrified her. In Greek Mythology, she recalled the story of Adonis – the absolutely breathtaking god of beauty and desire. The goddess Aphrodite had given him to the goddess Persephone to raise, and when Aphrodite had come back to retrieve him, he was so beautiful that Persephone refused to let him go, for fear that she would never get him back again. Was that…creepy? Wanting to keep a completely perfect stranger all to herself, just because his face was symmetrically pleasing, just because her hormones, because her biological and psychological make-up had been programmed to –

"You okay?" Gray was looking at her now, an eyebrow cocked questioningly as he rubbed his chin. He knew she was staring at him. He caught her staring. Oh god. "Is there somethin' on my face?"

He smelled like a bar, but for some reason that didn't bother Juvia in the slightest. It smelled…different from what she was accustomed to. Bora had smelled like cinnamon gum, but Gray smelled like…the earth. Even his leather jacket last night had held this oddly intoxicating combination of tobacco and pine trees. It was so soothing; she wished she could bury her face into his chest.

"Yes! Fine!" she blushed immediately and turned her body away from him, staring back up at the moon. God, she didn't know if she could do this. She should just call her boss and tell him that this was just too difficult, too daunting. He would probably fire her, but hey, someone out there was going to be looking for a public relations assistant, right? She was also more than qualified, despite her age, to be a museum curator, maybe an artist's assistant or publicist, and there were more than enough cities in this country –

"Do you want to go for a drink?"

Juvia whipped her head back around to stare at him. Did he…just ask her out?

Gray must have sensed her confusion, because he immediately clarified.

"Not like, a date or anything. That's just weird…but we should go for a drink, I think after the night you probably had you need one," he took one last pull on his cigarette before grinding its cherry against the stoop's gritty step, standing up and disposing of the butt in a nearby trash can.

He looked sallow in the face, but there was still a way that he moved, his muscles…he wasn't scrawny, not in the slightest, and Juvia wondered what his body was like when it was unclothed…

She was staring again.

"Well?"

Looking back up at him, Juvia jumped to her feet, nodding vigorously and smiling widely despite the sharp pain that pierced her bottom lip.

"Yes! Definitely!"

* * *

It was almost six o'clock and Gray was on his sixth cigarette and was…he…okay, he didn't know how many drinks under he was, but he knew immediately when he saw her again he was pretty drunk, or else he wouldn't have even acknowledged her existence, let alone invited her out for a drink (as if he really needed another one…).

After splitting the bill with Natsu, they had parted ways, bumping their fists as they always did, before Natsu retreated back to his studio, stumbling and yelling indiscernible words…lyrics to a song? Gray reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew that sixth cigarette, lighting and flicking the cherry before walking back towards his apartment, the sounds of the city just beginning to ebb and flow against the crisp, late afternoon air.

People were finally venturing outside now that it wasn't raining – bodies gathered to wait in lines at restaurants, teenagers huddled around shop windows, runners jogged by in tracksuits with their ear buds in. It was almost…sobering to be walking through the activity…in fact, it was almost uplifting, in an oddly captivating way. How had he avoided the outside world for so long? The beat of shoes against the pavement, the mindless chatter as people sipped tea outside of bookstores, laughed heartily at inside jokes…this city was suddenly alive again. How had he not noticed it on his walk over to Natsu and Lucy's? How had he not known this before? It made him want to see more of it, made him apprehensive to leave it for his apartment just in case it never surfaced again. This was how he had begun to feel back when he was creating.

Then he saw her, just sitting there and staring up at the sky – she looked like a spirit, maybe even a child from the ghost stories that he used to beg Ur to tell him at night. He couldn't really figure out why he had asked her to get a drink with him, but…he just really wanted to talk to someone, to keep this, whatever it was, flowing; prevent it from enduring an abrupt ending. This had been the first time in a long time that Gray had actually felt something more than just a sack of empty, wasted talent, and he had actually wanted to share it with someone – hell, he would have asked anyone to go for a drink the way he felt, but deep down he suddenly found himself happy that he had encountered Juvia of all people…albeit he did find it strange that after not seeing her at all, she popped up after their encounter.

Overlooking the coincidence, Gray had to admit to himself that there was something so strange, so daunting, about her entire presence. In the large, hulking coat she had worn the night before, he had never noticed how her body had moved against the night air while they walked away from the apartments, like water pouring from the mouth of a pitcher; smooth and gentle at its precipice, bubbling as it dove beneath the surface. Her eyes were a strange, cavernous blue, and Gray preferred them as they were now to as they had been when bloodshot and red-rimmed – that bright, inhuman color they became after she had been crying made her seem nymph-like. Now, she appeared slightly more human in thick tights and a sweater.

Or maybe he was just fucking drunk.

Now she was sitting across from him in the courtyard of some trendy bar (as per her suggestion), looking at him with those expectant eyes and flushed cheeks. Gray was thankful, albeit surprised, when she had taken the initiative and offered they go to this place she knew, because he sure as hell hadn't thought that far ahead – and truth be told, the place was rather quaint. There were hanging vines, cobblestoned paths, wrought-iron gates – a strange environment that was somehow enchanting with its dancing lanterns that flickered dully in each corner.

"What would you like to drink?" she offered, rising to her feet, "It's the least I can do after you paid my cab fare last night."

Oh. Well, that was nice of her.

"I'll have a whiskey on the rocks."

She smiled and nodded, fishing her wallet out of her purse before walking back towards the bar area.

As she passed him, Gray reached out and grabbed the hem of her sweater. The material was soft and pliable in his grip, and he immediately detached himself once she had halted to peer down at him questioningly.

Their eyes met. Hers widened as his traced over her cheek, lingering far too long on the split in her lip. She would probably take it the wrong way, but he was curious, and he was drunk, and he was probably only curious _because_ he was drunk. She wet her lips with her tongue, and he decided now was a good time to look away.

"Thanks, Juvia."

He heard her intake of breath and felt her presence linger for a beat before she sped away from him, stumbling slightly over the courtyard's uneven floor. She didn't even understand what he was thanking her for.

Gray turned his body slightly, just enough so he could watch her before she disappeared into the shadowed bar. While the sweater she wore was slightly too big for her just like the coat had been, her leggings definitely highlighted her long, long legs and hugged all of the right curves. Somewhere during their walk, he argued, she must have put her hair up…or had it been up before? No, no…it had definitely been down. Or…pushed to the side? Had she been wearing a hat? No, she had worn a hat last night. Goddammit, who gave a shit! Why was he still arguing over it all in his head?! Why was he even here with her?!

This was getting out of hand, clearly, and Gray decidedly lit another cigarette to calm his frazzled nerves, swiping an ashtray from a neighboring table as he did so. Thank god this place had this back courtyard, as not very many bars in the city offered smoker-friendly options – and just to think, it had been raining for so many days, they were lucky that the skies hadn't cracked open and doused them. Maybe Juvia had…maybe she had taken his habit into account, and chose the bar based on this fact. Gray decided that in the end, if this was true and she had taken his smoking into account, she wasn't that bad, blue hair and all.

* * *

When he said her name the atomic bomb that had rested at the bottom of Juvia's stomach detonated, unleashing so many butterflies she thought that they were going to begin fluttering out of her mouth if she spoke.

So, she hurried away back to the bar as fast as humanly possible. Crap, crap, crap – this was not how it was supposed to go! This was so awkward – every time she thought she was finally settling around his presence, he would...he would look at her, and it would just send her thoughts into absolute disarray. He definitely thought she was weird now; there was no tiptoeing around it. She had to get the ball back into her court, get her act together and focus on why she was even speaking to him in the first place. Yes, that moment last night…that moment of weakness had been rather embarrassing, and she was so grateful that he hadn't brought it up yet. Maybe they could laugh about it later, but right now it was something she wasn't ready to discuss with someone that she was supposed to be dealing business with.

He was a stranger! But, a talented stranger…Juvia had judiciously researched Gray Fullbuster. Born October 28th 1989, 26 years old, and extremely talented despite his age. He had hit it big, but that was a given (and a criticism she found a lot of journalists seem to make) considering he was the son of two very well-known photographers and the godson of Ur Milkovich, which in itself offered more than enough bragging rights.

Before her passing, Ur had become rather well known and was still talked about, however it was after her death that the controversy really reached its peak, even outside of the art world. Having a godson, a near direct descendent of Ur's, and in some ways a pupil, pursue a similar art style made his pieces all the more valuable in collector's eyes. Her sculptures were exceptional, and while Gray's were too, the mystery surrounding Ur's death had only fueled the fire, skyrocketing her popularity even over a decade later. While gathering basic information on him had been easy enough to do (his Wikipedia page was admittedly bare, his personal website hadn't been updated in years, and other than these leads, the only articles she could find were from trashy celebrity gossip sites or up-and-coming art scene interviews), she had found more than enough background on his parents and Ur. The most difficult part of being around him was that she knew too much _about_ him for it to be considered normal, and playing that off was going to be difficult.

The pub she had brought them to was actually a place that Gajeel had taken her several times during rare moments where she begged he take her out. Bora never liked to go out with her – he preferred to go out on his own, and absolutely despised it when Juvia asked to tag along.

Despite the smoke, grime, and grout, Café Fiore [**iii**] was still beautiful – inside there was an average bar with stools seated at the lacquered countertop as well as an assortment of tables, but if you walked through the body of the building you entered into a back courtyard which had obviously been out of commission during the rain storms and snow. While the bar was average at best, the courtyard itself was an absolute dream; the aura it gave off was anything less than extraordinary. Now that she thought about it, though, Juvia realized…it was more of a date place than a friend place…but what did she know any more? And he had told her it wasn't a date. And he was still a stranger. And she was…technically still with Bora, so…

Hopefully he didn't completely regret wanting to be with her, because honestly Juvia considered herself rather boring. It seemed that Gajeel was the only person she could really get along with…since she had started dating Bora; Juvia hadn't really been able to go out with her friends much (as if she really had a booming social life to begin with…). It was almost as if she had forgotten what it was like to actually have friends, if she had ever had any other than Gajeel in the first place.

After placing her order, Juvia folded her arms at the counter and looked up at the glowing board above the bar. There were several decorative swirls but in bold, capital letters it read out,

**ASK ABOUT OUR SATURDAY SHOT SPECIAL - $2.50 FOR A SHOT, $3.50 FOR TWO, $5.00 FOR FOUR!**

She ordered four.

* * *

When Juvia returned, he noted she had brought one of the bartenders with her. They carried a serving dish with two drinks and two smaller shot glasses filled with a syrupy liquid. The bartender set them down, smiling and encouraging them to come find her when they were ready for their second round.

Shots? Okay, she definitely wasn't all that bad, it was now confirmed.

Juvia sat back across from him and lifted up one of the two smaller glasses, passing one over to Gray who happily obliged. They cheered before shooting the liquid. The alcohol was light and sweet, but the shot was a shot, and just like all shots, it still burned as it went down. Gray immediately took a sip from his drink hoping it would cut the bite, only to wince slightly – oh, right. He had gotten whiskey on the rocks like a bona fide _idiot_. Had he been trying to impress her by ordering a straight drink? Thank god he had eaten something heavy with Natsu earlier.

Lifting up his gaze, he peered at her drink.

Hers was cloudy, paled hue, denoting some sort of too-sweet fruit juice – more than likely vodka lemonade. Sugar was pressed around its rim and she took gentle, very lady-like sips from its black stirring straw. Her lip was still slightly stained with rust-colored blood and she ensured that she was drinking from the opposite side of her mouth, whereas her cheekbone had begun to bruise just as Gray had aptly predicted it would.

It was strange. Her injuries, while they should be off-putting in terms of her overall aesthetic, only made her features more appealing…in an oddly destructive way, of course. Ever since he was young he was drawn to destructive things, which probably made him come across as trying too hard, but what artist wasn't? While art had such a broad spectrum, you could easily separate it into two distinct sides – the artists that revered _perfection_, and the artists that craved quite the opposite, ones that thrived on the _imperfections_.

She ignored his cigarette smoking too, and Gray quickly decided that he liked that most of all. It was obvious he had a habit of smoking, and drinking, but she just went along with it. Originally he had thought she was close to his age, but now he was convinced she was a bit younger…not young enough that she was unable to order drinks at the bar, but she had to be in her early twenties.

God, he was making a slew of presumptions and he didn't even know her age, let alone anything other than her name and her (er, unique) physical features. Where the hell had his mind wandered off too?

"How old are you?" If sober Gray didn't have much of a filter, drunken Gray most definitely lacked one – in fact, it was essentially nonexistent, and his resolve was whittling away more and more as he sipped his drink.

"I'll be turning twenty-five next month," she responded, her tongue sweeping out to glide over the split in her lip once more like she had earlier. It seemed, Gray noted, she had begun to form a nervous habit of touching it.

"You don't look twenty-five?" He had meant it to come out as more of a statement than a question, but was thankful when she didn't respond to it as such.

"How old are you?" she pressed the pad of her finger against the cup's rim, breaking off some of the sugar crystals and placing them on the tip of her tongue.

"Twenty-six."

"You definitely don't look twenty-six," she countered and he raised an eyebrow, which immediately caused her flush to deepen as she averted her eyes, "…but it depends on the light. In the cab you looked slightly younger than…than you do now."

Well, that was new. Gray always thought he fit his age quite well – maybe even appeared older. In high school and college, people had certainly thought he was older than he appeared, which was nice considering he rarely got asked for his ID when buying alcohol from shady discount marts (and when he did, they barely blinked over his fake).

"That's funny," his lips quirked, "I've never been told I look younger than I actually am."

Now her eyes wouldn't meet his no matter how long he looked at her – before she had been staring at him unwaveringly, and now he couldn't even get her to hold his gaze – what gives? As the night sky darkened, the gaslight lantern's that surrounded the courtyard bathed everything in a soft, ethereal glow. Though it was cold outside, neither seemed to mind – especially considering those shots had exponentially increased Gray's already heated body temperature. The whiskey, even with ice, definitely helped. Hopefully her drink was as strong as his was.

"I-I didn't mean it to be taken negatively, honestly, it–"

"No, it's fine, you don't have to explain yourself," Gray leaned back in his chair with his elbows crossed behind his head, trying to reason whether it would be improper to kick up his legs onto the table, "I was thinkin' that…you really don't look your age either."

This was true. She had the body of a woman, he knew that, but her mannerisms, the way she held herself, and those eyes of hers…they somehow just screamed child.

It might have something to do with the situation he had caught her in last night, though. Yeah, that may be it. Should he even ask her about that? Was it…impolite to bring up? Girls could be sensitive with this shit, and he didn't need another one, especially one he barely knew, blowing up at him again. It was going to start becoming a trend at this rate.

"Definitely not something I haven't heard before," Juvia swirled the black straw around her drink, ice tinkling against the glass' edge, "when I was in foster care, it was definitely a plus – everyone likes to adopt young children."

Now this was intriguing.

"You were in foster care?"

Juvia nodded, taking another sip.

"My parents passed away when I was very young – I don't remember much from my childhood, let alone having parents."

Gray downed the rest of his whiskey. At least they had that in common.

"Mine did, too." Who knew what prompted him to allow that sort of sordid detail to slip out, but Gray Fullbuster dared her to look him in the eyes. In fact, he wanted her to – he wanted her to look at him, more than anything. All of this sudden shyness was a bit off-putting. Gray had been the one to ask her to come out for a drink with him, but had she only said yes out of politeness? She didn't seem extremely talkative now that they were here, sans the foster care commentary, and Gray was never very good at making friends, especially as of late.

She looked up, and smiled kindly. Maybe she wasn't so intimidated by him, after all.

"Were you in the system, then?"

They were treading in dangerously deep waters right now, but he didn't mind. As of now, the whiskey had settled deliciously in his stomach, and he was swimming in a happy median between drunk and _gone_. Everything was warm; so diluted but so alive and happy.

"Nah, I lucked out – my godmother adopted me, took me in and had me live with her after my parents died," he didn't know why he was telling her all of this, "it wasn't so bad, much better than having to go through all of that stupid foster care shi – "

Gray paused, his drunken filter digging him down a deeper hole, but he didn't care. He needed another drink, and was thankful when the same bartender from earlier had come over with another round for the two of them, clearing up their empty glasses. When…when did they order this?

Looking back up at her, he could tell that he must have been running his mouth off, but he…what did he say to her before the drinks had interrupted his line of thought…something about adopting? What a crock of shit.

But her eyes looked slightly glazed over, pools reflecting the swimming gaslight flames. Oh god, had he offended her?

"I…I didn't mean for that to come out as…harsh as it did, honest, I'm sure you're perfectly fine, it's just that it…well, y'know. I don't like how the foster system handles things."

It was the truth, after Ur had passed…things just got too complicated. He half expected her to be angry with him, but she smiled instead.

"Don't worry," she waved him off, "I wholeheartedly agree with you."

Gray was still quite tempted to ask her about that guy, though. Even if it was none of his fucking business in the first place, she seemed fine with opening up touchy subjects…

"What about your art?" Juvia parted her crossed arms, propping her elbows onto their tabletop, "I want to hear more about that."

"My…art?" Had he told her that he was an artist? He surely must have, there was no other way that she could have known…but he never talked about his art so freely, at least around people he barely knew, "I mentioned my art to you?"

She smiled bashfully, shifting in her seat. Clearly, he hadn't told her much, if anything at all.

"Well…I do have a confession to make," she sat back up, taking a sip from her new drink, "I did…a little bit of research. I know, it's a bit odd, but you had mentioned your parents had been artists, and well, my interest had been piqued…"

"So, you googled me?" Gray wondered what his face looked like to her. He was sure it was twisted in some disgusted fashion, but really…she searched his name? That was something he avoided at all costs. The media had a field day with him from the moment Ur passed up until his latest run-in with the police, with little breathing room in between.

"Ah, well, hear me out!" She countered, diffusing the situation the best she could, "You had been so kind, lending me your jacket and paying my cab fare, it was more or less out of just plain curiosity…"

Gray relaxed back again, tilting his glass back so that several ice cubes fell into his mouth.

"…And, well," Juvia continued, "when you mentioned your parents were artists, I was interested in seeing if I could learn a bit more about them, see if I'd heard of them before," she shifted awkwardly again in her seat, "I'm an artist, too."

"An artist…?" Gray popped another ice cube in his mouth, crunching. Lots of people claimed to be artists – anyone could label themselves as an 'artist' these days, as many believed that they fulfilled their own personal definition of 'artist'.

"Well, most definitely not one as accomplished as you are," Juvia clarified, "I mostly just work for museums these days – marketing, public relations – back-end stuff."

"Which museums have you worked for?"

"None you would have heard of, I assure you," Juvia had finished her drink and was now swirling her glass around in one hand, admiring how the light caught through the glass' crystal facets.

His focus grew wary. Usually, once anyone in museum public relations or marketing learned that he was Gray Fullbuster, Ur's pupil, they would seek him out asking for physical donations or an art piece to display in an exhibit. It wouldn't be the first time – he received countless phone calls and e-mails begging for him to please participate, that they would pay him more than enough, this and that…it was all nice and ego-swelling, but he had a commitment (and a contract) with a museum of his own personal choosing, and he preferred to keep it that way.

"Look, I don't know if this is you trying to recruit me for some sort of free artwork for your gallery to generate some buzz or whatever – "

"Oh, no! Nothing of the sort!" she placed her open palms onto the tabletop, "No, not at all! I'm not…no, no…I just…am intrigued, that's all. Ur Milkovich, had some phenomenal pieces, she was alternative sculpture royalty in the modern art world."

Yeah, he had heard that before, too. Big words thrown around with Ur's name as if she had been a puppet to the craft she loved and not a real, true, human being with a passion for changing the world's view point.

"Look, Juvia, it's been a real blast, but I think it's time I head back," it was all the same – exploit him, use his name in relation to Ur's to generate some crazy press for an up and coming museum, it was no wonder that Lyon and Ultear had both decided to pursue careers in other, tangible subjects – he had just been the black sheep of their patchwork family, felt that he needed to keep Ur's legacy going, and look where that led him?

And to think, for a split, drunken second, he had thought that this girl actually wanted to get to know him. Funny! Hilarious! Didn't the universe just have such a brilliant sense of humor?

"No, wait!"

He was already standing up, but Juvia had been just as quick, reaching across the table to grasp his wrist, bumping her knee on its edge.

"Gray, I'm very sorry," her eyes were glassy and Gray couldn't tell if it was because she had hit her knee, if she was actually drunk, or if it was because she could tell he was going to walk away before she could work some manipulative bullshit on him, "I didn't mean to come off that way at all. I'm not trying to use your profession for my own personal benefit, I…I really do like your work. And Ur's work…Ur's work is unmatched in the art world, and not just because of any conspiracy surrounding her. Your work is…it may be even better than hers. Your concepts, your sculptures themselves, are visually and mentally stimulating in a way no other modern artist has been able to create,"

Her fingers were very gentle, though firm, and bitten cold from the air. He allowed her to stall him, only because he hadn't realized how much he had to drink until he stood up and felt the world tilt like a carnival ride. His vision was bleary though he could see, it was just his eyelids themselves that were very weak. Everything was moving in a beautifully fluid manner, and his head was swimming between the realm of nausea and absolute coherence. Gray understood what she was saying and was processing it, but he really did just want to get home. It had been a long day.

"Gray!"

The canvas was black.

* * *

Luckily, she had caught him before he hit the ground, but – _OOPH!_ – he was heavier than she had expected him to be, which was both a pleasant, as well as a troublesome, surprise. The chair behind him had fallen backwards, its metal body clanging once it hit the cobblestones, immediately drawing attention to the two of them. While there were a few other people around who saw the spectacle, Juvia was still glad it was so dark that nobody could see their faces. Maybe ordering two rounds of drinks had been rather presumptuous of her, but she was glad she took two of those four shots before bringing out the remaining one to take with Gray.

Despite his weight, Juvia was able to corral some assistance from the lovely bartender that had served them earlier (after shaking Gray awake just enough so he could walk from the courtyard back through to the front of the bar), and now they were, once again, back in a taxi together on their way back home, with a bottle of water on the house, to boot.

Strange – usually Juvia was the one who couldn't hold her liquor when she went out drinking with Gajeel, but Gray had also already been drinking beforehand…and then to order whiskey on the rocks? She should have told the bartender to add a little splash of cranberry juice or something, made his order a whiskey sour at the very least.

Or maybe she should have just gotten him a glass of water to start. He had been munching on those ice cubes, but Juvia had to wonder if he had eaten or drank anything other than alcohol all day.

Once she had wrangled said taxi, he had quickly passed back out in the cab's back seat, but she was absolutely dreading the arrival at their building. She had no clue where his room was; his keys were…she'd probably have to search his pockets if she couldn't rouse him again…

Juvia's face burned, heat pooling in her cheeks at the thought of…touching him…oh god.

Honestly, she should have been freaking out right then and there. Gray's body was slumped in the seat but his cheek was perched against her left shoulder, his hair tickling what was bare of her neck, collarbone, and cheek. He…he smelled just like his jacket had last night. Tobacco, pine trees, spearmint…it was so nice. His body temperature was deliriously warm, and when tangled with the euphoric scent he gave off, she was so tempted to lean her head against his.

'_Oh god, Juvia!'_ She chastised herself, '_Juvia's so creepy, why, why, why!'_

Gray was still a stranger! Just because she knew all of these sordid details about him didn't mean she knew him any better than he knew her!

The cab lurched forward at a stoplight, Gray's body rocking with it just enough that his head fell forward…nose-diving directly into Juvia's lap. The girl nearly screamed out loud, the heat on her face reaching catastrophically high levels. He tilted his head to the side; hot air ghosting over her…area…and she almost lost all consciousness.

Gingerly pulling him back up (by his jacket's collar no less), she pushed him so that he lay upright with his head lolling against the seat's backrest. She shifted her legs, crossing them immediately and praying that they got back to the apartment so she could slap him awake once again, get him to bed, and be done with this whole embarrassing ordeal. This was such an odd role-reversal – she couldn't remember the last time, if ever, she had been with a guy passed out on her. There was no way he was going to want to see her again after all of this…ugh!

The cab stopped again, this time pulling to the side of the road and clicking on its hazards. Gray didn't move. Juvia pulled out her wallet from her purse and withdrew enough to cover the transport and a decent tip before turning back to Gray's snoozing body.

Gulping, she lightly shook his shoulder, but nothing happened.

"Gray…" she shook his shoulder once more, "Gray, get up. You're home, and I need you to co-operate with me and get out of the taxi."

Nothing.

Juvia turned his chin to face her, cheeks lighting up without second thought at the gentle contact. Everything about his face was beautifully crafted, it should be illegal – from the slope of his nose, to the crevice that dipped above his mouth, his long, thick eyelashes…she just wanted to stare at it for as long as humanly possible.

'_His skin is so…warm, it's almost feverish.'_ It took literally every single bone in her body, and a screaming conscience, to stop her from tracing his features with her own fingers.

"Gray," she patted his cheeks as firmly as she could, causing his brows to furrow and his head to jerk away from her grasp, "Gray, wake up. I need to take you home."

His eyelids parted just as she was about to grab his nose and plug it closed, gazing at her in sleepy annoyance.

"Where th'fuck 'm I?" he mumbled, eyes searching around the cab's body lazily.

Juvia sighed in relief.

"We're in a taxi, you passed out at the bar," She grabbed the bottle of water the bartender had given her earlier, passing it over to Gray. He stared at it, and then looked back at her, entirely unamused by her explanation. Juvia supposed people didn't like to be told what a train wreck they were, but at this rate the cab driver was going to start running the meter again and she was running low on cash.

She was about to start pushing him out of the damn taxi, water bottle and all, when he unscrewed the water bottles top and chugged nearly half of its contents. He stayed like that, breathing deeply and nodding to himself, for several moments before sitting up fully. He slid along the seat, opening the door and climbing out wearily with Juvia followed in tow. She grabbed his arm and slung it over her shoulders as he began to sway again, his knees starting to buckle again, straining against the weight of carrying his body.

"Are you ready to head up the steps?"

"Wait." Gray commanded, lifting the water back up to his face before he finished chugging the bottle, crumpling the plastic in his fist and tossing it to the side.

Normally, Juvia would have gone to pick up the bottle to dispose of it correctly – she hated littering, more than anything else in the entire world – but right now didn't seem like an opportune time to be an environmental cadet, or a nagging mother. Grimacing instead, she directed him up the stairs, one by one, much to Gray's obvious chagrin. Even if he was a Greek god, he was still a rather insolent child deep down inside…which wasn't really much different from a Greek god, either, come to think of it.

* * *

It hadn't been an easy feat, but they had made it up to his apartment. Juvia unlocked the door with the keys Gray had handed to her with a grunt, and before she could even control the situation – let alone take a look at their surroundings – Gray had waltzed in a new man, stripping off his clothes as if this was a totally casual situation, entirely oblivious to her.

"Gray!" Juvia's hands immediately cupped her eyes, a coiling heat bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she took a peek through the spaces between her fingers.

He had turned to look at her, denim pants slung low and unbuttoned on his hipbones. Juvia had been right to assume he wasn't just skin and bones underneath his clothes – he obviously had an intense physique. While it was still dark inside the apartment, there were many windows bare of curtains, all of which bathed every contour, every shadow, of his toned body in an iridescent, glowing light.

Slowly, Juvia moved her hands away from her face.

"Gray, I – "

"Thanks for bringin' me home," He stumbled slightly, eventually pulling down his denim pants to reveal a dark pair of boxer briefs which he left on as he kicked the pants off sloppily with his feet. "I'm gonna go t'bed now."

Thank god he was wearing at least _something_, or else Juvia probably would have fainted from the blood loss. If he had taken off those pants to present nothing else but his naked glory…she would be on the floor, she would be six feet under, and somehow she didn't even mind that option. It nearly killed her to see him turn back around and walk further into the darkness, and she almost wished that she could follow him…but that wasn't her place. She had a boyfriend; she should be going home, going to bed…

Except, instead of continuing to walk away, Gray doubled back, padding up to her in long, confident strides, stopping within an inch of her body. Juvia knew she wasn't short, but she wasn't tall either, and compared to Gray's height, the top of her head barely grazed his collarbone.

Oh god, oh god, _oh god_, he was _shirtless_, he was nearly _naked_, and he was right _in front of her_.

"Unless…" his voice was thick and hushed as he gazed down at her, "you'd like to join me."

That was it. She was a goner. Lay her down to rest and cover her body with soil, because Juvia Lockser was no more.

Her breath hitched audibly in her throat, producing a loud, sporadic cough just as Gray laughed heartily, stepping back away from the girl to give her space.

"You're sort of cute," His laugh deepened as that statement only made her cough harder, "y'know, in a weird 'I-stalk-you-on-google-search' way."

Juvia caught her breath, her coughing finally coming to a stop.

"I am not a stalker!"

"Ya're too." Gray seemed to be enjoying ruffling her feathers; at least he seemed more jovial now than he had earlier.

"Are not!" She shoved his bare shoulder away from her, but he bounced right back.

"Are too," his own hand had lifted up momentarily, as if he was going to touch her, but he brought it back down, eyes drooping slightly.

"Are not!"

"I think…" he looked down at the floor now, "...'m gonna throw up."

Juvia blanched.

"Where's your bathroom?!"

Before he could answer, Gray sprinted over to his kitchen sink and emptied the contents of his stomach.

Well, that had dissolved faster than Juvia had foreseen.

Sighing, she walked back over to his fridge and opened the door, staring at its near-bare shelves. He had very few food items, which seemed normal all things considered – they lived in a city, after all. There were several boxes of take-out as well as bottles and cans of assorted beer, eggs, bacon, milk, and a few bottles of water. Withdrawing one of the water bottles, Juvia walked back over to the sink, Gray still leaned over it with his hands cradling his head.

It reeked of sour liquor and stomach acid.

Reaching past his form, Juvia turned on the faucet, refusing to look in case her stomach lurched as well. Gray was breathing deeply, his hair plastered to his forehead and almost on instinct, Juvia rubbed his back gently, asking him if he wanted some water.

For a few minutes he didn't answer her, spitting excess saliva into the sink and cupping his open palms against the running faucet to rinse out his mouth. Finally, he lifted his head, catching more water in his palms to splash his face before flicking a switch that lay behind the sink, his garbage disposal gurgling to life.

Gray still didn't acknowledge her presence. Instead, he took the bottle of water from her grasp, and walked back through the body of his apartment, up a short set of stairs to what Juvia could only determine was his bedroom.

Now, Juvia knew what the correct course of action was. She was left alone, he was safe in his bed, and she knew what any normal, average, intelligent twenty-four year old girl would do – go home. Just leave everything how it was, walk away and not look back. He obviously wasn't grateful for the effort she had given with taking care of his drunken ass, and there was a significant chance he was going to avoid her at all costs from now until the end of time. Juvia shuddered, remember the rage that had flashed in his eyes when they had begun discussing Ur…she really should have known it was a touchy subject, but…ugh! She was just so bad at this kind of stuff. Not to mention the string of lies she had told…

…And, despite all of this, despite her brain absolutely screaming at her to propel her feet away from this damn apartment, she didn't want to leave him alone. Juvia didn't have any connection to this guy, but…she just couldn't walk away. Whether it was because she was bound by duty to her damn job, whether it was because she still admittedly had a huge, ridiculous, schoolgirl crush on a dumb, pretty boy, Juvia couldn't begin to create a plausible excuse. She began to pick up the clothes Gray had strewn across his apartment floor, searching his pockets for his wallet and cigarette pack, placing them both down on his coffee table.

Might as well clean this place up a bit, right?

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**References**:

[**i**] – When I smoked cigarettes, this was the kind I smoked…and thought it would be hilarious if I referenced them, because y'know…Silver…ha! I also am sure Gray would hands down smoke menthols, no questions here. Oh, and I don't think I have to tell you guys, but please don't smoke cigarettes – I know this Artist!Gray isn't the best role model, but no cigarettes. I wish I could take back all the years (and money) I wasted on them.

[**ii**] – Dale Chihuly is one of the most phenomenal artists out there. I'm fortunate enough to live in a country that has several of his most extravagant pieces on display, and have admired his work since I was eight years old. Check him out – I know it's a bit farfetched to have Natsu train under him, but whatever. Think of him as this story's Igneel.

[**iii**] – Fairly straightforward, this place'll be referenced again in later chapters. If you're confused with the layout, I had modeled this place after a bar I used to frequent in college. I would give you the official name, but uh…yeah. It's sort of a nod to Fairy Tail as well, but I didn't want to just name it "Café Fairy Tail" because pff, lame. (brick'd)

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**Notes**:

OOC Gray is OOC, poor Juvia! That ending seemed rather abrupt, I know. I'm so sorry; I hope it made even a DROP of sense in someone's mind other than my own, and apologies again for the late update! Out of curiosity, serious question:

Do you prefer the long chapters that are updated every few weeks, or do you want short chapters every week?

It's kind of a toss up at this point, as my main writing days are Sunday and Monday…I sort of like the long chapters, but maybe that's me being lazy and knowing I can procrastinate on them more. Oh, and if you have any ideas concerning this story and its direction, please do not hesitate to share them with me!

See you soon! Thank-you all so much for reading again – constructive criticism is welcome, praise keeps the creativity flowing despite the odds!

x


	4. Chapter 4

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**Auxilium**

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Hi! (frantic waves) this was...again...later than I had intended, and certainly not as long and juicy as the previous chapter. The holidays are a rather busy time of the year at work for me, unfortunately. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season and very Happy New Year! I hope 2015 brings loads of love and laughter into your lives.

Thank-you all, as always, for the absolutely wonderful reviews and commentary! I am always so blown away by the response and messages I get, I really appreciate it all.

HUGE THANKS to the ever phenomenal **muffin-dragon227** \- she is basically the reason why this chapter was written as fast as it was and essentially is the reason for the Gruvia season right now because holy cow did she provide me with amazing plot devices, ideas, and a stable direction. She basically wrote this chapter, I just filled in the cracks.

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**Disclaimer/Warnings are listed in Chapter One.  
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**There are no chapter notes.**

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"Interpretation is the revenge of the intellectual upon art."

Susan Sontag

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Gray didn't remember much from his childhood.

Not that it had necessarily been a bad childhood – at one point he actually had parents, hell, even after they died and he was living with his godmother he still had it better than most. While he really hadn't been dealt the _best_ hand of cards, in the grand scheme of things he also acknowledged that things could have been much, much worse – and he had always been good at poker.

Considering that he had a roof over his head for the entirety of it, not to mention food to eat, clothes to wear, money to spend on daily (exuberant) luxuries – these alone were more than what many people in this world had been privy to. Gray had been given all of this and then some…it was just that…every time he tried to remember certain…things…things that had happened before certain milestones, his mind blanked. Memories of childhood warmth and adventurous summer days were nonexistent, instead replaced by bright lights and ambulances, hospital beds, pediatric therapy, lawyers, nurses; too many stuffy court rooms and hushed voices, pens scratching against legal pads.

Everything was muddled and murky, like a lake full of silt. Was he awake? Was he asleep? Morning light poured from his window, its curtains pinned open to the side. Despite the sun, clouds still hung low, casting a dreary shadow. Gray blearily rubbed his eyes, blinking away the sleep as the drumming pain began to crest. God, there was nothing worse than a hangover, absolutely nothing. Had he drunk any water at all yesterday? What had he eaten? Where had he gone? He distinctly remembered getting lunch with Natsu, walking back to his apartment…things had been so beautiful and loud, colors whitewashed and dancing. He had made it back to his apartment and…

The edge of his bed creaked as a body sat at the end.

"Good morning!" Juvia chirped, cradling an unopened bottle of water in her hands.

Oh god.

They hadn't.

Ignoring his searing headache, Gray immediately flung back his covers to reveal his partially naked form, still clad in only a pair of boxer briefs. Without a second thought as to the company he was keeping, Gray began flinging his pillows, searching desperately for his phone and any, erm, _used_ form of contraception, as to quell his raging suspicions.

Turning back to Juvia, he noticed the poor girl's face was flushed a dark red, blue eyes threatening to roll into the back of her head.

"Did we fuck?"

Juvia's eyes darted down to his briefs only to immediately jump back up, widening as she looked away and vehemently shook her head so hard that her hair flew around her like a typhoon, her entire face and neck the color of hot lava.

"Juvia, did we have _sex_?!"

"No!" she thrust the bottle of water in his direction, still refusing to face him, "you got drunk, and I brought you back!"

He was silent.

"…and I was worried about you. So I stayed."

Gray groaned inwardly, accepting the bottle, cracking open its cap and chugging the bottle's entire contents. He mumbled a guttural '_thanks'_, twisting the bottle in his hand.

"Y-you threw up in your sink, too."

Ah.

Before he could react, she stood up and flitted down his staircase, face still as red as anything.

God, she was…strange. What the heck did he do? It was like she'd never seen a shirtless guy before, for christ's sake. Wasn't she dating someone? Gray was grateful for the water, but he hated having other people in his apartment, especially when he was hungover. She could have at least brought him some painkil –

Oh, fuck. A familiar twitch signaled his attention down south, and Gray stared at his lap.

Well, that explains a lot.

* * *

Thankfully the master shower was located on the same level as his bedroom, and Gray ejected himself immediately from his bed once he saw his, er, flag at full mast, sprinting as if Juvia could still see him. While he was extremely thankful that they hadn't slept together, he was still confused as to why she was still here – even when Angel slept over, she more than often snuck out before he could wake up, leaving him some passive-aggressive note or text saying she'd call him later. Usually, she did call him later as she promised, but once their relationship had run its course the calls stopped coming, she stopped going home with him, and before he knew it, he was drinking alone (though not necessarily going home alone).

But Juvia…Juvia had actually stayed. Not like that was some grandiosely impressive thing, it was just…nice to know she had cared about a complete fuck up of a stranger, or worried enough to make sure he had been okay. Nobody had really cared that much about him to stay with him throughout the night, let alone a girl. Come to think of it, even in college they had always wanted something; usually sex in some dingy bathroom or broom closet, and on rare occasion just the chance to say they went home with Gray Fullbuster. More often than not it was to obtain bragging rights – he invited them _out to dinner_, and ate them out_ immediately after_ and oh, of course the _rumor's were true_, he _was really good with his hands_, god bless that pottery course, but it was his package that _was the most impressive of all_.

Gray rolled his eyes at the memory. He couldn't just lie and say that back then the rumors hadn't been ego-boosting, but they had also been somewhat damaging too – while he, like most young men, did enjoy sex, there was just something about one night stands…he just couldn't find enjoyment in them, especially not after college ended. He had slept with strangers, he had slept with girls he had been partners with, in fact he had been prepositioned for threesomes on more than enough occasions, but at the end of the day he really didn't want that type of relationship with human beings, even if he did tend to give into carnal temptation after a few shots.

Juvia was pretty. After admitting it to himself several times already, Gray could confirm that despite her peculiar…disposition, she _was_ pretty. He could appreciate that much, even if her presence was a bit unsettling. The memories from the previous night came through clearer and clearer as the hangover and its haze drifted away from his brain. God, she had smelled so good…

Glancing down at his problem with a grimace, Gray realized that maybe if they had slept together, he wouldn't have this issue poking him in the figurative face. Maybe she could have helped him take care of it this morn –

'_Shut it, Fullbuster_.' Gray ran his hands through his dark mane, inwardly chastising his dirty thoughts. God, he barely even knew the girl, not to mention he kept forgetting about her asshole boyfriend that was more than likely still lurking around this city. Who knows, maybe if he took long enough in the shower, she would be able to collect her things and leave – in fact, maybe she had left already and he was just none the wiser…

Gently removing his boxer briefs, Gray weighed his options. At this point in time, he couldn't decide which route was better – attempt to urinate and deal with the consequences of cleaning up after, lay in the shower with the cold water beating down on his body before the blood drained itself out, or just knock one out and call it a day.

Gray entered the shower stall, shutting the glass panel behind him. All right. He could…do this, just…fuck it. Get it over and done with, pop some aspirin, and lay in bed the rest of the day. Turning on the shower, he felt the warm water beat against his chest as he gripped his member, running his hands up and down its

shaft with swift, long strokes. Just don't think about her, don't think about her, don't think about her, don't think about her –

He thought about her.

* * *

There were many things Gray disliked. Possibly, above all, the one thing he disliked the most was his stepbrother, Lyon. Next in line, easily, were unwelcome guests.

As he walked out of the shower, Gray heard several things echo across the expanse of his studio apartment: Lyon's voice, Juvia's (cringe) melodic laughter, and utensils clattering.

He had been in the shower, easily, for fifteen minutes, much longer than any shower he could remember taking for a good, long while, and had really convinced himself she would have been gone by the time he got out.

Maybe if he just dried off, got into bed, and pretended to be asleep they would just leave and he wouldn't have to worry about explaining anything just ye – _FUCK_!

Gray gripped his kneecap, hissing in pain, hopping across his floor, towel long discarded and forgotten.

"God_fucking__**dammitALL**_!" He ground out, glaring at his damn coffee table. Since when had that thing moved?!

"Well, it sounds like someone's finally recovered from their drunken stupor," he heard Lyon croon as the knowing sound of a coffee cup was placed onto tabletop, "and here I was almost concerned you had lied to me!"

Juvia's voice was hushed as she replied, Gray could barely make it out against the pain of his head and his knee, but he could almost imagine the exchange they were having at his expense. Fucking Lyon…that goddamn asshole always had the worst possible timing. First it was Ultear banging down his door at some godforsaken hour, now it seemed that Lyon took it upon himself to come and torture Gray with his backhanded comments and flirting with his goddamn neighbor –

Not that it was that much of an issue, Lyon could flirt with whomever he wanted to, especially her, it didn't matter to Gray, but what really mattered was that asshole was in _his_ goddamn kitchen drinking _his _goddamn coffee and entertaining _his_ goddamn guest –

No, no not his guest, not his guest, she was just his neighbor, and he definitely hadn't thought about her as he had begun to create lewd fantasies with him pushing her up against bedroom walls or whatever.

Nothing of that sort.

Groaning, Gray finally bent his leg back out several times, wincing at the pain that seemed to connect between his forehead and his kneecap. Of all the goddamn times.

"Well, Gray – are you not going to grace us with your presence this morning?"

Lyon had that particular talent, a talent many had but few could truly access, of really fucking rubbing Gray the wrong way.

"I'm coming down now you fucking prick!" Gray shouted out, grimacing immediately after as his hoarse voice rang out. Not only did he feel like death, but he also sounded like death…

He heard a '_tsk_,' followed by the scraping of chair leg against floor.

"My apologies," he lowered his voice several octaves, "you'll have to excuse my brother. His brash temperament is very unbecoming of a gentleman. How he was able to bring an absolute doll like you into his apartment is completely beyond me."

Gray couldn't tell if Juvia even replied to that fucker, he had already flung open his drawer and was rooting around for a pair of briefs and bottoms. Once secured, Gray flew down the staircase (still shirtless, mind you), skidding to a halt as he faced his two 'guests'.

Juvia's hair was tied up in a messy topknot as she stood over Gray's stove, strands escaping carelessly to frame her face as she turned to look back at him, a spatula clutched in her hand. She was in a different set of clothes from before, Gray noted, a pair of black leggings and a large, purple cable knit. Lyon was next to her, hand clutching a white coffee mug as he leaned against Gray's counter top, body angled perfectly towards the girl, damn pinstripe oxford shirt and all.

Of all the fucking things to see…

"Good morning!" Juvia called out, cheeks rosy, as she quickly turned her attention back to the stove's top. There was the sound of crackling coming from her spot, and Gray felt the need to crane his neck to see what she was cooking. It smelled really, really good, and he could feel his stomach start to tighten and lurch all at once.

"You know Gray, it's awfully impolite to not respond to someone after they've told you good morning."

Gray's eyes flicked back to his stepbrother, anger evident. He glared before turning his attention over to Juvia's back.

"Morning," he muttered, padding over to his fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water, drinking several sips before rooting through a drawer and pulling out a small bottle of aspirin. He took two and chased them down with the bottle's remaining contents.

He could really use a beer right about now…were there any left in the fridge?

"Morning to you as well," Lyon folded his arms across his chest, "you never told me you had such a cute neighbor you know, Gray…" he moved back over to the table before eyeing Juvia's form appreciatively one last time.

That bastard.

"Juvia was telling me that she just moved in several months ago, but only recently met you," he took another sip of his coffee before settling down into an empty chair beside Gray, "and here I was concerned after what Ultear had told me yesterday – I decided to check up on you, only to find a pretty girl answering your door, making you breakfast, and if I'm not mistaken it appears she's actually _cleaned_ up your dingy rabbit hole."

Gray blinked, the atmosphere suddenly dawning on him. His apartment…had…seemed different, in a way. Flitting his head from side to side, he noted there were no more empty beer bottles on the kitchen countertop or table, not a single crushed cigarette pack as far as the eye could see, no lumps of forgotten clothes…

Was that his dishwasher going?! He had a _dishwasher_?!

"For once it doesn't smell like cheap alcohol, cigarettes, and regret."

"Lyon if you don't shut your fucking mou – "

"Who wants eggs?" Juvia called out, placing two plates in front of the bickering duo, adjacent to a pair of pre-arranged cutlery and napkins. He had _cloth_ napkins?!

Lyon smiled appreciatively, but Gray deadpanned.

"I don't eat breakfast."

Juvia's eyes flashed with momentary hurt before she reached over to take Gray's plate back.

"Insolent child…" Lyon muttered.

Groaning, Gray glared at his stepbrother, reaching out to grab Juvia's wrist before she could stand back up.

"No, it's okay, I'll eat it. Thanks."

She flushed again at their skin-to-skin contact and nodded, leaving the plate.

"You really don't have to…"

"It's fine." He ground out, and Lyon kicked him underneath the table.

Gray seethed, but Lyon shook his head.

_Not in front of a lady_.

"I hope they taste good! I went back to my apartment this morning and brought a few things back with me to make them…"

Gray scowled, staring down at the eggs. It was a standard scramble, there appeared to be some combination of vegetables, cheese, and meat. He really wasn't big on breakfast, hell, he wasn't big on any type of food before noon that wasn't a beer and a cigarette, but it did smell really good…

Scooping a mound up with his fork, Gray tentatively tried some.

Fuck.

It was really good.

He ate another forkful. And another.

"Juvia, you are quite the chef!" Lyon exclaimed after swallowing, taking another sip of his coffee, "I really hope Gray's poor disposition isn't too off-putting, I still find it difficult to believe that you were the one that needed to be taken care of last night."

Juvia herself smiled, taking a seat across from Gray and next to Lyon, eating from her own portion.

"Well, I hadn't really planned on overstaying my welcome, but I really do owe Gray for being so kind to me…" she continued eating, stalling only to realize that she didn't have a drink and asked the boys if they wanted anything while she was up.

"Juvia was telling me that the two of you went out together," Lyon finished off his coffee, asking politely for another cup before turning back to Gray and continuing, "and she said you so graciously allowed her to spend the night after she had drunk too much. Very contradictive considering your penchant for alcohol and overconsumption – it does prompt why the poor thing has that split lip and bruise."

Gray stalled his eating.

"Honestly, I came in here ready to punch your lights out, banging on your apartment door after what Ultear had told me, but I'm feeling much better now that I see you've got some positive reinforcement in your life."

God he just wouldn't shut up! The man just kept going, and going, and going!

"The split lip is nothing, really! I told you already, Lyon," Juvia called out, brushing away his thoughts as she sat down again. "Gray actually…he really helped me out the other night. We only went out for drinks because I wanted to thank him, but of course I went a little bit overboard, I am new to drinking, after all…" she shifted in her seat, glancing down at her lap, "please don't think that Gray has done anything wrong, he's been a perfect neighbor and host."

She sounded…almost convincing.

"Maybe I should leave after breakfast, though…it seems I have overstayed my welcome, and you two probably have a lot of things you need to privately discuss."

Lyon's eyes widened slightly, but only momentarily, before he opened his mouth, prepared to speak. Gray beat him to the punch, his tongue moving on its own accord.

"No," he looked up at the girl in front of him, "you can stay as long as Lyon does. It's fine."

Gray couldn't decide if her presence made his stepbrother more or less of an incorrigible prick, but he did decide that she had covered for his ass, so he owed her some sort of compensation for that at the very least. Not to mention, Lyon wouldn't really get into the gist of everything in front of her.

Obviously, they were both thinking alike, as Lyon's eyes fluttered back to Juvia and then to Gray. The two locked glares, lightning crackling, and Gray dared Lyon to bring up Ultear again.

"Yes, don't feel like you have to leave suddenly on my accord," Lyon switched his attention back to Juvia, "whatever Gray and I have to discuss can most certainly wait."

Why was he being so nice to her? Lyon was an impossible pompous dildo half of the time! In the span of thirty minutes he had endlessly complimented her, apologized, and was now smiling at her, eyes tracing down her figure…

Oh, that rat _bastard_.

A swirling whirlpool of heat began to pool in Gray's gut, adrenaline pumping through his limbs.

He _liked_ her.

Lyon, that was. Not him. No, definitely not him.

"So Juvia, what do you do for a living? You never told me." Lyon finished off his breakfast, placing his fork back onto the plate.

Juvia brushed a stray strand of powder blue hair back behind her ear, glancing over to Gray before she timidly answered.

"I'm a museum guide," she mumbled, pushing around the remaining bits of her breakfast around the plate.

Lyon seemed taken aback.

Gray wanted to slap him.

"Now that's interesting, so you must be aware of Gray's talent I presume?"

Juvia nodded ferociously.

"I…I absolutely love his work," another shy glance his way, "and I am a huge fan of Ur's as well. I wrote my senior art dissertation on several of her pieces."

Lyon laid back in the seat, his eyes widening in surprise.

How come she had never told him that?! Gray demanded inwardly, eyes flickering between the two. He…he had asked her what she did before, true, and maybe he overreacted a little…she had mentioned that she did really like his work, and Ur's as well.

"What is your favourite piece by her?" Lyon prompted.

Gray's breath hitched in his throat.

"_Labyrinthine du Monde_ was of course very beautiful, it's no surprise it's really her most popular series, but I like a lot of the older work, her glass and mineral sculptures," she laced her fingers together, folding them in her lap, " most notably _Aquiescere_ – the volume of pain it speaks is unfathomable and many overlook it because they think it's just a slab of glass.

"The beautiful thing is, though, if you look carefully enough, she beat the glass in an attempt to shatter the sculpture. She created it to destroy it, because her sculptures were the one thing in her life she knew she could control."

Gray's breath began to cough violently. Lyon stayed, for the first time since he had arrived, utterly silent.

* * *

Once the words had left her mouth, she immediately regretted them. This was becoming a poor trend these days, Juvia noted – she would relax and her tongue would dig her own grave for her.

The worst part was, that she was being completely and utterly honest. Those were her favourite art pieces by Ur, and she had written her senior dissertation on them.

She should have known that Ur was such a sore subject, especially with how Gray had acted the night prior. It should have been obvious that Lyon would react similar, and Gray…who knew how Gray would react. He began coughing the moment she shut up and Juvia wanted to punch herself repeatedly. This was not how she had planned this entire week to go, much less morning.

Her job was to convince Gray Fullbuster, to charm him, to sway him, and to form an alliance with him, but so far all she had done was awkwardly run into him bawling her eyes out (not to mention injured), get him unbelievably drunk, watch him puke his guts up, and make him breakfast while his stepbrother awkwardly (well, not so awkwardly) attempted to flirt his way into her figurative and literal pants.

This was not progressing, if anything she had taken three steps up and then been promptly shoved down the staircase.

Maybe it was about time she stuck with the pity route. Gray seemed to take to that more, though he had been rather harsh with her last night…Why was this so COMPLICATED?!

Neither of the males at the table had spoken – even Lyon, which Juvia found odd considering he had been consistently chatting her up since he arrived, leaving barely any room for her to speak. Gray, as usual, had come down being his grumpy self, but at this point Juvia really couldn't blame him; he was hungover, probably annoyed from the night before, and she had clearly overstayed her welcome despite him assuring her otherwise.

As if on cue, the cloud broke and a golden beam shot through the heavens, landing directly on her pocketed cellphone. Salvation came in a series of short, quick vibrations, which made her jump slightly, retrieving the device at the most opportune time.

"Excuse me," Juvia stood up from the table, answering the call as she promptly locked herself in the bathroom.

"Hel – "

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Juvia groaned, holding the cell phone away from her ear.

"Gajeel."

"Tell me right now. Where. Are. You."

"Gajeel, I'm in my apartment, calm down."

"That's cute, except you're not, because _I'm_ at your apartment, and I've been banging on your damn door for the past ten minutes, so tell me where the fuck you actually are."

Oh lovely.

"I swear to all that is holy Juvia, if you are at Bora's, if you spent the night at Bora's, I'm going to fly down to his damn place and find you both and it will not be pretty."

"I'm not at Bora's."

He was suddenly very, very quiet.

"Well…" Gajeel coughed, "then, where are you?"

"Working."

"So, you're in that guy's apartment?"

"Yes."

"Did you sleep with him?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"No."

"Maybe you should."

"No, Gajeel." Juvia sighed, leaning against the locked bathroom door. If anything, she did want to – that much she wouldn't lie – but that just didn't seem plausible at this point. She still had the mess that was her love life to deal with, and Gray definitely wasn't interested in sleeping with her, not at all.

"All right, well, I came over to check up on ya and see if you wanted to get some coffee, maybe lunch in a few hours – let me know what you're doing, okay?"

Juvia nodded before she realized that he couldn't see her.

"Of course, that sounds like a great idea."

"Maybe we can also try and get all of your shit out of that loser's apartment sometime – he hasn't contacted you, right?"

Juvia bit her lip. In all honesty, Bora had been blowing up her cellphone, especially that morning. She had ignored the calls, the texts, and finally turned off her ringer to any call coming in from his apartment building and cellphone.

"He…may have tried. But I haven't answered."

"Good."

The nervous swelling began to build in her gut. It always did when she thought about how she was ignoring Bora – really, Juvia knew right now it was for the best, but not answering those calls had been playing with fire, and you know what they say about playing with fire.

"I'm almost finished up here, Gajeel. If you'd like to hold on a few more minutes, I can come back down there."

"Are you sure? Don't you want to hang around pretty boy and his garden of creepy ass sculptures?"

"I think it's good if I give him a break right now," it seemed logical – she did want to stay and stare at his face, but staring at him wasn't going to charm him, she needed to pull back a little bit, "I'll say my goodbyes and head down to my apartment."

"All right, I'll be here."

They both hung up simultaneously, and Juvia immediately sunk down to the floor against the door's back, mindful of its silver knob. She stared up at the ceiling, glaring at its singe fluorescent light. Best to let those two talk about some things – she knew that Lyon had come in guns ablaze earlier, and it wasn't her place to intrude on family matters, especially after stirring the pot as much as she had.

* * *

"She's cute."

"Lyon."

"I'm shocked you haven't tried to stick your dick in her yet."

Gray's grimace grew harder.

"Lyon."

"All I'm trying to say is I'm extremely shocked, considering Ultear had told me that you were still in contact with that ex-girlfriend of yours – what's that stupid name she goes by again?"

"_Lyon_."

"Is that why you didn't sleep with Juvia yet? Knowing you, you're still hung up on that drugged up, club kid scene. It's a shame, really. Looks like I'll have to take one for the team now – "

"LYON."

"Well, what is it?! Come out with it, you've been repeating my name like a broken record!"

Gray felt like he was about to pop a blood vessel. He could feel a twitch coming on.

"Why the fuck are you still here?"

"To give you a tongue lashing, in all honesty. Ultear's incredibly worried about you, and it seems the only thing you know how to do these days is drink your problems away and yell at everyone."

Lyon stood up from the table and began cleaning it off, picking up the plates and forks.

"You know, you are such a fucking – "

"What am I, Gray? Go ahead – enlighten me. I'm really looking forward to what you have to say, considering I'm well aware of what _I_ am – you're the one who has an issue with what _you_ are."

Gray closed his mouth, folding his arms across his chest.

"That's what I thought."

"Stop acting like my fucking parent, I'm old enough to take care of myself – "

Lyon's back was to him as he began rinsing the dishes. He flicked on the disposal and the loud thrumming drowned out Gray's words.

"DON'T YOU TRY TO DROWN ME OUT YOU BASTARD, I'M STILL TRYING TO FUCKING TALK TO YOU."

Lyon flicked off the disposal, sighing. He really hated caring so greatly about his younger brother – even if they weren't exactly blood-related, he did feel somewhat responsible for all of the shit he had been involved in. Gray constantly used the '_stop acting like my parents!_' defense against any sort of valid points Ultear or Lyon brought up, and while Ultear allowed it to affect her, Lyon felt indifferent to the verbal punches. They all had lost someone – more than just someone. Each of them had lost people on a grand scale.

"Look. Admittedly, when I first came here, I really was ready to punch you square in the jaw," Lyon pocketed both of his hands into his khaki slacks, "but, there is a part of me – a real part of me – that does want to help you through all of this mess. You're my brother on paper, whether you accept that or not, and you are my – you are _our_ – responsibility. Ultear and I…we want to see you succeed again, because we know you have talent, and we know the person you can be."

Gray was caught between rolling his eyes and actually believing the spittle pouring out of Lyon's mouth. Normally, neither of his older siblings opened up so readily – come to think of it, he didn't either – and probably hadn't spoken to him like this since he left for college many years prior.

"I spoke with Juvia very briefly," Lyon began, but then shook his head, walking back to the table, "she's very…unusual. In the best way imaginable mind you – I came in ready to rip your limbs off and she immediately jumped in to your defense. Tossing about how you protected her against some guy, paid her cab fare, so on and so forth."

Pausing, Lyon watched Gray's reaction.

He was scowling like a pitiful teenager, but he was staring at the floor, obviously deep in thought. Lyon continued,

"It's painfully obvious you were the one who got inebriated last night, though for whatever reason she sees you as a good enough person to cover for, despite knowing so little, so maybe you should start fitting that role."

God, Gray didn't know what was worse – Lyon chastising him like he was his parent or Lyon treating him like a human being with some sort of backhanded heart-to-heart. Normally he would have jumped across the table and punched that bastard right in his pointy ass nose, but his hangover was only beginning to subside.

"You don't have to say anything," Lyon continued, still hovering over the table, eyes boring into Gray, "but I think, personally, she would be a positive addition in your life – just stop being such a callous asshole and let someone new in for a change. You don't have to fuck her. Just…try to be nice. She seems like a sweet girl, and you could use some more friends. Ones that haven't convinced themselves they need multiple vices to survive."

Gray stayed silent.

* * *

Juvia could hear them shouting. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the garbage disposal begin, shooting up to her feet as if a bomb had gone off. Eventually her heart rate decreased as the disposal was turned off again, and she heard the hush of quiet conversation begin again.

She wondered if they had been talking about her. She wondered if Gray had gotten jealous with Lyon's proximity to her. She wondered if she was ever going to stop daydreaming with these crazy delusional thoughts.

Truth be told, she was surprised to even meet Lyon, and even more surprised when he took such a strong liking to her – nobody had ever taken to her so quickly, and so…forcibly.

Well, nobody else but Bora.

When Gray had gone into the shower, Juvia had begun rooting through his fridge. Normally when Bora was angry with her – and he was always angry with her – she would cook for him. Deep down, Juvia knew it was poor to associate Gray's behavior with Bora's, because they were not the same at all, but it was all she had really known of the opposite sex, bar her friendship with Gajeel.

Last night she did remember seeing a few odds and ends on the shelves, but after checking the expiration dates on several packages, soon came to realize Gray really didn't go shopping for himself. There were a lot of grocery delivery services in the city, but Juvia found it hard to believe he hadn't really gotten groceries in _that_ long. Sneaking out with his key, Juvia had gone back down to her apartment, changed, and grabbed several ingredients for food. It was simply coincidence that an extremely forceful knock advanced on the door the second she re-entered the apartment.

Normally, in this situation, Juvia would have ignored it – normally, she would have probably tried to alert Gray that someone was there for him, but there was no way in hell she was going anywhere near him until he approached her again. Just…just thinking of his…oh god.

Moving on.

The guest's knocking only increased the longer she waited to answer – and then the guest began spewing threats.

Juvia had read about Lyon as well. She knew he had been involved in art but only as a critic, not so much an artist. He kept to himself most of the time, despite being photographed by paparazzi more frequently than his other siblings – it seemed he was very popular with the online community and his commentary was revered. He had critiqued Gray's work before as well – Juvia recalled reading the rather scathing review.

However, seeing him in person was a completely different animal from seeing him in photographs.

It was strange – while they didn't have any blood relation, Gray and Lyon still held this sort of air about themselves, almost aristocratic, even when they were enraged (or in Gray's case, hungover and/or inebriated). Their faces had to have been sculpted from the same marble slab because both had impeccable facial features that could only come from similar backgrounds.

Oh, and was he charming.

Upon seeing her he had immediately introduced himself, smiled a dazzling smile, hung his trench coat up, kissed her hand, and made himself at home as if he hadn't just been preparing to knock down the door.

It was almost too much. He was so charming, so engaging, but…

Sighing, Juvia leaned back over the sink, shaking the thoughts from her head.

This was getting out of hand. Her fantasies, her daydreams, her delusional way of thinking…she needed to head home. Gajeel was waiting, and she had stalled long enough.

Staring into the mirror one last time, Juvia reached up and undid her hair, admiring as it cascaded down, resting just at her collarbone in gentle, powder-blue waves. It was getting rather long, she noted, fingering several of the longer strands. Usually she kept her hair rather short, but recently she had been ignoring Bora's protests – he had always wanted it short and to her jawline, but now that she had let it grow out she definitely wasn't complaining.

After fluffing it up slightly, she smiled to herself and unlocked the bathroom door.

* * *

The table had been cleared, Lyon was standing up and shrugging on his large black trench coat, the same one he had hung up after he arrived.

"I'm sorry to leave so quick after a meal," he apologized, walking towards the girl, "but I have pressing matters to attend to."

His lips were feather-light against the curve of her cheek, and for a moment Juvia could have sworn she had imagined the parting kiss. Lyon walked back to the door, nodded at Gray, and promptly exited the apartment, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Neither said anything immediately following, but it was Juvia who spoke first, as customary.

"I think I'm going to head out," she began, walking over to the door and hunching over to slip her feet back into her boots.

"It's my favourite, too."

Juvia whipped her head upwards, her field of vision coming immediately in contact with Gray's bare torso as he walked towards her, last nights scenes from his apartment playing in her mind like a film reel.

'_He's still not wearing a shirt_,' her face flushed. Goddammit. How could he drink so much alcohol, smoke so many cigarettes, and still look that good?! It was so unfair! She straightened up as he came closer, forcing herself to look anywhere, _anywhere_, but his bare body and his…

'_Oh goddammit, Juvia, get a fucking hold of yourself!_'

"The piece," he clarified, "_Aquiescere_. She made it a long time ago, but it was…it is still my favourite. I've been fighting with the collector that bought it; I'd really like to own it myself one day. Ultear, my sister, has been really fighting for it as well. Lyon is indifferent, but I think he's only indifferent because he knows Ultear and I want it so bad, and he knows we'll get it."

'_God say something, say something, you should say something_!"

"I hope you get it."

'_OH GOD THAT WAS SO LAME_.'

He…smiled?

"Thanks."

'_Say something else!_'

"I – " her voice squeaked, dying almost immediately as she spoke – _very smooth_, "I didn't mean to sound presumptuous earlier," Juvia stared down at the ground, still scared to look back up in case her gaze trailed back down to his…_ugh_, "but…I really do like it. Well, I guess…I like my interpretation of it."

"That's how it should be. Good artists give stories to their work, great artists leave it up to their viewers," he smelled so nice, "that's why Ur's work was so popular for such a modern market. Everyone fit it into their own life story."

She knew this, but she wouldn't tell him that. This was the most he had said to her sober, and Juvia really didn't want him to stop.

Her phone went off.

"Oh shit!" Juvia's eyes widened as she fished the phone out of her pocket, checking the caller ID, "shit, shit, shit! I've left Gajeel waiting this whole time, he's going to kill me!"

Gray quirked an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side as the girl before him tapped on her screen, furiously typing out a message before she turned her attention back to him.

"I'm so sorry, I have to go, I've left my friend waiting down in my apartment, thank-you for letting me stay the night!"

Wait, what?!

"Hold on!" Gray grabbed her shoulder, thrusting her backwards with such velocity that she crashed into his chest.

Juvia spun back around, and further away from his grip, faster than Gray had ever seen anyone move, face beet red and clutching her phone to her chest.

Gray felt the heat begin to creep up the back of his neck. She had…felt…really good…even if it was just her goddamn back.

"Sorry," Gray apologized this time, "I hadn't meant to…be so forceful, I just really didn't want you to leave before I thanked you. You don't have to thank _me_ for anything."

"O-oh," Juvia lowered her hands down from her chest, phone still locked in her grasp.

"Yeah," Gray gulped, "so, uh, thank-you. For, y'know, everything you've done…really. You didn't have to. I'm kind of a jerk to be honest, and you're way too nice for your own good."

Was that…a compliment?

"Thank-you," Juvia smiled regardless, deciding to take it as is.

Grays eyes flashed.

"Stop thanking me! I'm trying to thank you!"

Juvia burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?! I'm serious!"

"I'm so sorry Gray, it's just – " she laughed harder, "you walk around with such a commanding presence and…" her laughter drowned out her voice as she clutched her sides.

Maybe she had finally lost it.

"Goddammit," he huffed, folding his arms across his bare chest, "don't you have somewhere to be? Isn't someone waiting on you?"

"Oh, shit!" Her laughter ceased and suddenly her back was ramrod straight once again, "Gajeel! I am such an idiot!"

That was the second time she had forgotten about him, Christ, this guy must really not be important.

'_Well, he seems rather important…_' A slight voice taunted Gray, but he brushed it off. No. Fuck off. He didn't have time for this petty bullshit.

"Have a good day, Gray! Get some more rest!" Juvia waved as she exited the door.

All Gray could think about was if she had mentioned her boyfriend's name, and if it had been Gajeel.

* * *

**Notes: **

Thank-you for reading! Pop in a review if you have the time and let me know what you thought - I am not too sure about this chapter's end, it's a little blase, but don't worry, I promise the interaction will begin to pick-up! (think less blushing and awkward contact). Constructive criticism is always welcome with open arms, and love keeps the inspiration burning! xx


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